Needs Must
by Aurette
Summary: How long does a thirsty man stare at a glass of water before he takes a sip? How long can a woman keep putting another first before she rebels? EWE?, SS/HG, Adultery.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Thank you to **astopperindeath** for her beta work, as well as to **Dressagegrrrl** and **Hebe GB**, both of whom I love more than I can say. Without their friendship, patience and careful eyes, this would have been a much lesser work. Seriously. Y'all have read my review replies, you know I need help...

Not mine, no money.

* * *

Headmaster Snape finished his last report and stubbed out his cigarette. He tidied the stack of parchment before vanishing the transfigured ashtray and clearing the room of smoke. Activating the Floo, he tossed several memos in, watching as they zipped off to their destinations. Popping a mint into his mouth, he bid the portraits good evening before climbing the stairs behind the tapestry to find his way into bed next to his snoring wife, Lenore. Obviously the mint had been wasted. Again. He cast a Silencing Charm on her, but not himself. His deviated septum trumped her sinus issues on her worst nights.

He didn't bother to examine this small bit of passive-aggressiveness. He had the first time. His tiny act of insurrection had shocked him, and he'd had difficulty sleeping, pondering the strange feelings of satisfaction and guilt. It had felt wrong to do something so patently disrespectful to the woman who had graced him with the honor of her acceptance. But that first time had been years ago. Tonight, he just flicked the candle out and turned his back on her. He slipped off to sleep thinking about requisition forms.

He knew at some point she would wake him with an elbow in the ribs and demand a respite from his own snoring. It was a petty way of forcing her to acknowledge he was there.

* * *

"Are we still having dinner with the Malfoys tonight?" Snape asked his wife from behind his newspaper.

"No, Cissy had to cancel. I told you that two days ago if you remember."

"My apologies. I've been dealing with staff requisitions all week, and it must have slipped my mind."

"Pass me the jam, dear," Lenore said in 'that' tone, the one she'd cultivated in the second year of their marriage. It was a magnificent mélange of vindictive victimization, pride, and petulance, with just a _soupçon_ of sublime ennui tossed in.

Snape set his teacup on the saucer and folded his paper before passing her the jam.

"What are your plans for the day?" he asked with unfailingly polite interest.

She answered with her usual list of visits to other matrons and 'good works' for her many charities. Lenore Snape, nee Gibbon, was diligent about her good works. The whimsy of Fate had landed her on the wrong side of the war just by being born the sister of a Death Eater. Hard work and sheer determination had pulled her to the other side after the war, and it had been understood from the start that Severus was part of the plan. Being the wife of a hero and an important man more than mitigated being a Snape. She'd informed him of as much every anniversary for the last seven years when she gifted him with a new cravat and another logical reason to put off starting a family.

All things considered, he was still mostly pleased with his circumstances. Things could have been very different. He could be dead or rotting in Azkaban. He'd never factored in the impact his desperate message to Potter would have on the boy. It had never occurred to him even as a passing wish that he would be saved, vindicated, and respected all on the word of a boy whose very existence had been an emblem of the fact that Severus Snape was not fated to be happy.

Fate was a strange bitch. So was his wife. Coldly beautiful with her sleek, black hair and slate grey eyes, she was gifted with a practical disposition that bordered on the mercenary, yet she devoted herself to the less fortunate with an earnest intensity. Others, like Narcissa Malfoy, threw fundraisers and had their picture taken in hopes of improving their social standing. Lenore actually dirtied her hands as a form of penance, and if word happened to make the papers, all the better. She never bothered actively seeking publicity. Snape couldn't help but be drawn to her sincerity. He might have hoped for love in those first months of courting, but he was content enough with mutual respect. He was a practical man himself and had learned to stop wishing for the moon when the moon had been dashed from his sky in his youth.

He did his best to please her; she never asked for much. He'd cut his hair for the wedding, and when she had seen the negative reaction in the papers, he'd grown it out again. When she'd set up a consultation about his scalp condition, he'd dutifully gone, even though such things seemed absurdly trivial to him. One comment from her, and he'd grown it out to waist-length. On her advice, he wore it held in a clasp below his shoulders, in a style that always made him think of Dumbledore's beard. She liked it. He kept it.

In return, she—well, in return he had a wife, which was more than he'd ever thought he was entitled to.

"Isn't it time you joined the rest?" she said as she pushed her plate away.

Snape looked at the clock on the wall and set his teacup down with care. "So it is. If you will excuse me, madam. Enjoy your day." He stood and smoothed his deep-blue robes, another concession for his wife.

"Severus," she said. He stopped and turned to her with tilted head, raised eyebrows, and an anemic spark of hope. "I dislike waking up to sheets that smell of smoke. You know it bothers my sinuses."

"My apologies, Lenore. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't."

Snape nodded and swept out of their sitting room and down the stairs. He passed through his office with his usual brief greeting to the portraits and his customary nod towards Dumbledore, before continuing out and down to join his staff and students for breakfast in the Great Hall.

* * *

"Viktor! Viktor, get off me! We're late!" Hermione Krum wiggled out from under her husband's sweaty leg and gave him a light slap on his bare rump. He mumbled and rolled away from her as she dashed for the bathroom. When she came out, he hadn't moved. "I mean it, Viktor. Get up!" The panicked tone had been replaced by annoyance, and he lifted a bleary-eyed head at her and scowled.

"It is Sunday, Ninny."

"You keep saying that as if it means something. You know the rules."

Viktor grumbled and shoved the blankets off him.

"After this semester, we vill discuss life plans," he said grumpily as he waddled off to the shower.

She watched his naked body until it was out of sight behind the closed door. "You keep saying that too," she said quietly.

The Krums had only been on staff at Hogwarts for a few months. Viktor had been recruited to teach DADA when Madam Restringer had left at the end of the last school year. He'd been assured that the position would be permanent if he chose to keep it. Hermione had been hastily conscripted a month into the term by Headmaster Snape. Professor Binns had suddenly realized he was, in fact, dead and had walked out of his classroom mid-lecture and dissipated in the hallway. Her fate as a teacher was waiting to be decided by the Ministry Board based on her performance.

It had been a shockingly stressful time at first. Binns had been famous for generations due to his ability to wring the last drop of interest out of a subject _before_ presenting it to his students. Therefore, Hermione had assumed the class wouldn't be that hard to take over and had dived right in with aplomb. However, the Ministry had seen fit to make some changes to the curriculum, and her first two months had resulted more in barely contained terror than competence.

Both Minerva McGonagall and Filius Flitwick had been instrumental in helping her retain her sanity. Headmaster Snape's unfailing assumption that she could handle it had gone far in helping her recover her confidence. He'd never given her a word of encouragement; he'd just treated her as if she was already doing it well, and she'd managed to find it in herself to make opinion fact.

She'd finally found her center after the Christmas holiday and was thoroughly enjoying herself, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that Viktor was chafing. Having to be present at every breakfast was only one of his issues. Hermione was sure he would opt not to continue at the end of the year. She was also sure he would expect her to leave with him.

She walked out into the sitting room and found two memos on the carpet in front of the fireplace. Picking them up, she found her request to have the charms on the chalkboard in her classroom overhauled had been approved. Viktor's third request for new training dummies for his classroom had been denied. She crumpled her memo hastily and tossed it into the flames to burn before dropping his back to the carpet and scurrying to the door.

* * *

"I do understand, Viktor. It's terribly important, I know, but you must understand there's a budget. Certain things are just unattainable right now. The Board did say if you decided to keep the job, they would see about making more changes."

"I tell you it is an insult! They do not really vant me. _He _doesn't vant me!" Viktor flung a hand at the head table as they entered the noisy hall. Both teachers fell into their customary smiles and waved at students before Hermione leaned in close and hissed in her husband's ear.

"The Headmaster? Don't be ridiculous. He's never said anything of the sort. And keep your voice down."

"He doesn't haff to. I can just tell. He's always with this… _aloof_."

"He's aloof to everyone. He's always been that way."

"No wonder his vife is unhappy," Viktor muttered. "At least she doesn't haff to come to all these meals."

"Madam Snape isn't unhappy; she's just aloof as well. And she doesn't have to be here because she's not staff. Now, enough. We'll speak more later."

They separated and walked to their assigned chairs. Hermione smiled and greeted Hagrid and waved to Minerva before sitting down next to Pomona Sprout.

"Good morning, Hermione. What are you plans for the day?"

"Morning, Pomona. I'm actually at a loose end. Viktor has a lot of grading and doesn't like me to distract him. I might hide somewhere with a good book. You?"

"I have a new batch of Whistling Thistle to sort out in greenhouse three. You could join me if you wish. I could use the extra hands. Filius is busy."

"What do you need done?"

"I need to sort them according to pitch, and my ear isn't what it used to be."

"Well, I'm afraid all you get are the extra hands. Viktor assures me that I'm tone deaf and that I shouldn't be allowed to even hum in public."

Pomona chuckled. "I'll take the hands. I know someone with a good ear. It's just a matter of finding the right way to bribe him." Sprout nodded towards the Headmaster, and Hermione looked over to see him scowling into his tea.

As always, her thoughts about him fell into a confused jumble. There was no doubt in her mind that he was an excellent Headmaster, but these past months hadn't made getting used to him any easier. He was too different. His demeanor was much improved from his teaching days. She attributed that to the lack of psychotic villains trying to overthrow the world. He'd become mesmerizing in a way, and she was fascinated by him. He wasn't exactly pleasant, but he wasn't nearly as fearsome as he used to be unless there was cause. He could still make a student dissolve in tears, but saved it for when that student had truly deserved it.

Hermione grimaced at the memory of him making her cry for no good reason when she was a student. Times had been so different then. Students and staff, Death Eaters and Order members, they'd all lived in a volatile cauldron waiting for one wrong spark to blast their world into ruin.

However, the war had been won; the dead had been laid to rest. Witches and wizards had turned their minds toward their happily-ever-afters. Even Professor Snape had found someone with whom to settle down.

Hermione had been surprised and pleased to hear about his engagement and subsequent wedding. Snape finding love seemed to put the final flourish on the concept of peace. It made the very idea more believable to her. Everyone knew how his devotion to Harry's mother drove him all those years; for him to find another signaled a sea change in the world.

She'd met the woman several times over the years at Memorial functions and found her to be strikingly beautiful if a bit cold. She had the same regal bearing and too-thinness that the upper-class women of society everywhere displayed. It was the same look that always managed to generate envy in front of a mirror and pity in front of a plate of pasta in the other ninety-nine percent of the female population. Despite Viktor and Ron's sniggering remarks about Beauty and the Beast, Hermione had thought they'd made a rather handsome couple.

However, these last months of working near him seemed to highlight an erroneous assumption on her part. Headmaster Snape hardly seemed to be living happily-ever-after. Closer contact revealed he still radiated the same sad fatalism that he had as a teacher. He was just far less angry. She didn't understand.

She thought about Viktor's snide remark about Madam Snape being unhappy and wondered if that was what she was picking up. Was his wife unhappy with him? Was he unhappy with her? Was there something else entirely going on? She rarely saw them together outside of official functions, but was aware that appearances were forever deceiving. The Snapes were both reserved and undemonstrative people. There was no way to guess the truth.

She took a deep breath and shook her head. Useless and unproductive speculation on other people's personal lives always made her feel sheepish. Whatever was bothering the Headmaster, she would never know. One thing hadn't changed since her years as his student; he was still intensely private and did not tolerate people nosing around where they shouldn't.

She blinked several times to clear her thoughts as Pomona rose from the table amidst the noise of students bustling out the doors of the hall. "What time do you need me there?" Hermione asked.

"Oh, let's see… How does ten sound?"

"I'll be there."

Hermione smiled and waved as the other teacher left. When she looked back along the table, she found only the Headmaster had remained, staring out at the departing students with a speculative expression that seemed to leak melancholy.

She hastily finished her meal and bid him a pleasant day and scuttled away before he could reply.

* * *

Hermione arrived at ten on the dot dressed in Muggle clothes that she wouldn't mind getting filthy. The plants on the table chimed in the breeze as she closed the door behind her.

"Bless you, dear," Sprout said when she saw her. "I've got them all potted up, and we're just waiting for our resident pitch-perfect ear before we can begin. We'll be sorting them by note so here's what you'll need to do…"

Hermione listened intently as Pomona told her about how she hoped to plant them in clusters according to sound and hoped to have Filius orchestrate a tune once they knew what she had. Together they began to set up. Hermione was just finishing with the labels when she heard the thistles chime again. She looked up to see the Headmaster at the door. He wore his old, many-buttoned, black robes with his hair pulled back tight from his face. He looked strange to her. She hadn't had that many chances to talk with him, so she really couldn't say she knew him at all, but she could say for sure she had never seen him in quite this way before. His robes called up the image of the old, familiar Potions master, but the relaxed stance and slight sparkle in his eyes were almost shocking in their foreignness. He looked… human.

"Pomona, I assumed the Whomping Willow sapling that arrived in my office with a note to meet you here is either a bribe of some sort, or signifies you're ready to finally start our affair. Since I'm unsure, I thought I would pop down here and find out. Just so you know, I did take a shower in order to be prepared." His glittering black eyes landed on Hermione, crouched on the floor amongst more pots of thistle, and shuttered instantly. "Close your mouth, Professor Krum. You make an unbecoming guppy." His body stiffened as she watched, and the relaxed informality vanished. It struck her that something rare had just died.

Hermione snapped her mouth closed and pivoted her head towards Sprout who just stood there beaming and pointing proudly to her thistles. Obviously, this form of humor was not unusual between them. Hermione felt like an outsider and desperately wanted to find a way in. She wanted him to be as relaxed around her as he was with his older staff. She clutched her thistles and stood up.

"Ah, a bribe it is. To think, I wasted all that water," he said with a droll sneer. Sprout chuckled, and Hermione smiled timidly at him as he walked over and inspected the plants. "They look like marvelous specimens, Professor Sprout. You should be proud."

"Thank you, Headmaster. Do you think you could do the honors?"

"Certainly. Are you ready?"

"I think so. Hermione? Are you ready, dear?"

"Absolutely."

The Headmaster walked to the first plant on the table and raised his hand and wafted it just above the plant. The spiky, purple globe chimed.

"E," he pronounced.

Hermione blinked as Pomona slapped a label on its pot. He stepped to the next one and repeated his movement, pronouncing the next plant a B. Hermione pulled the ones he'd identified away and pushed more plants towards him, but he gestured for her to line them up around the edge of the table instead. He proceeded to walk in a slow circle around the large potting table waving to each plant and announcing its note. He picked up the pace, and Hermione scrambled to set up the plants. When she'd filled the edge of the first table, she began to ring the next. Pomona's plan had fallen by the wayside, but no one seemed to mind since the Headmaster could identify the notes faster than they could place the plants in front of him. Hermione was in awe.

"C. B. B. D. E. A. A. G. A. B. C. G. F. A. Granger. Watch. The. Cabbage. A. D. E. G. C. B. D. F. G. E…"

She was so startled that he'd used her maiden name that it took her a moment before she looked behind her and saw she was about to back into a Chinese Chomping Cabbage. She jumped away with a squeak and laughed before hurrying to push the already identified plants to the center of the first table and loading up the edges with more.

Hermione and Pomona danced and whirled in circles around the work area as the Headmaster continued methodically on with his task. Twice, the two women tangled together and laughed so hard they missed what note he had called. The look of glittering amusement in his eyes and the smirk that was really just a repressed grin made her truly feel like she was finally accepted into the secret society of people Headmaster Snape considered worthy of his time, and she flushed with pride.

It took just under thirty minutes for him to identify all of the thistles. By the time he was done, the two women were tired out, both from laughing and their efforts to keep up. They collapsed on a bench as the Headmaster stood over them with his arms crossed over his chest and a glorious smirk that Hermione felt privileged to see.

"My congratulations, Pomona. You have a strong pentatonic scale and enough other tricks to create a nice dirge. I shall look forward to listening to what you come up with. Now, if you will excuse me, I have a school to run." He turned to Hermione, and his face stiffened back into a mask. "Professor Krum, may I have a word with you?"

"Of course, Headmaster," she said with a smile as she pushed herself off the bench. "I'll be just a moment, Pomona."

"Nonsense," Sprout replied with a wave of her hand. "We're done here. I'll just tidy my babies up a bit, and then I'm off myself. Thank you, Headmaster. It was an honor as always." She nodded respectfully to him, and then an impish twinkle flared in her eyes. "I'm terribly sorry we didn't have time to start our affair, but I've not forgotten. Don't you worry."

Snape nodded with a twitch of his lips before turning and gliding out the door. Hermione scurried to catch up.

"You were marvelous!" she blurted as she reached him. "Of course, to be honest, I wouldn't know if you were just reciting gibberish, but it was still rather thrilling to watch. What instrument do you play?" she asked as she bounced along backwards in front of him. She stumbled as she saw his face cloud over.

"I don't. It's just a useless party trick." He stopped suddenly, and she had to catch herself and walk back towards him. "Professor Krum, I do not take kindly to my wife being the subject of petty gossip among students. I will _not_ tolerate such behavior from my staff. Do I make myself clear?"

Hermione felt the smile on her face crumble as she struggled with her disorientation. "You mean the flirting with Pomona? I know it was a joke, Headmas—"

"I'm not talking about Professor Sprout," he snapped, waving a hand dismissively behind him. "That's been a running bit for twenty years. I'm talking about the little scene you and your husband put on when you arrived for breakfast this morning."

She took a step back, shocked at the venom behind his words. "I don't—Oh! I'm terribly sorry, Headmaster. Viktor and I weren't gossiping. He was… he woke up tired and longed for the days when he could have a bit of a lie in is all. He meant no disrespect to Madam Snape. Not at all." She struggled to convey what she needed to without making her and her husband look worse than they already did in the angered eyes of her employer. "I have the utmost respect for you and your wife, Headmaster. I understand your need for privacy, I assure you."

"It might come as a great shock to you, Professor, but I was once _a spy_," he hissed with nasty sarcasm. "Reading lips was a skill I acquired early in the game. I know _exactly_ to whom he intended disrespect. I believe I have said enough on the subject. If I find my marriage the subject of a public spat between you and your husband again, it will mean your immediate dismissal. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir!" She reached out an imploring hand. "Oh, please—" Her words choked to a stop in her throat when he turned his back on her and stalked away. She tried to stem the sudden flow of tears and had difficulty swallowing. Her mouth felt like it was full of ashes.

* * *

The Headmaster was on his second glass of Ogden's Old. It had been a day full of disparities that had left him far too deeply buried in his own thoughts.

The highlight had been playing with the thistle. He'd enjoyed himself immensely. He'd been leery of the History of Magic teacher when he'd seen her there, but listening to her laugh with Sprout had been infectious. It had been so long since he'd indulged in simple pleasure.

He grimaced, and his hand tightened on the glass. He'd found a way to ruin it fast enough. The heaviness had set in quickly as the last floral note had quieted down. For the first time, he'd seriously resented having to go back to this tower. He hadn't wanted to return and be alone again. He'd considered asking the two women to join him for a stroll into Hogsmeade just to prolong the amity, but feared he would look a bit desperate if he did. If he was being honest with himself, and he nearly always was, he would admit that he'd grown quickly spiteful of the two women for their carefree way. The younger one in particular. Snape couldn't help feeling a slight contempt for the young married couple anyway. They seemed truly happy together, and they had their whole lives ahead of them to be so. They made him feel old which offended his battered dignity. He'd lashed out at her when he'd known full well it had been her husband that had made his marriage common gossip, and well, he'd destroyed what fun had been had.

His gut clenched at the memory of Granger's face. The smile freezing and then sliding away as if melting, before the fear and anxiety took over. It had left him feeling like a bully. He still felt like an arse. It had needed to be said, however. How could he keep order if his staff didn't respect him?

He closed his eyes. The warmth from the liquor spread through him as he listened to the Floo activate. He opened his eyes as his wife stamped into their sitting room spreading ash and slush.

"You're home late," he said. "Did you get anything to eat? Would you like me to order you something from the kitchens?"

"No, I've eaten," she said with a tired sigh as she pulled off her gloves. "I helped Petunia Zimmings find her father on the street. We got him home, poured him into bed, and then I cooked her and her sister a meal and got them into bed. I ate at the Leaky when I was done. Did you get them on the scholarship list for next year? I need to get them away from that odious man."

"Yes, my dear. They are taken care of. Books, uniforms, the works. I just hope that escaping to Hogwarts is all they hope it is. At least they have each other, being twins." He rose from the chair and took her cloak, stroking her neck as he did so. "You are a remarkable woman. Taking care of those children is very admirable."

She flinched slightly and stepped away. "You've been drinking."

"I still am." He waved a hand at the half-full glass on the table. "Only my second. You know I've not overdone it in years. I wouldn't disrespect your wishes like that."

She narrowed her eyes at him slightly, but seemed content with what she saw. She sat primly on the sofa. "Perhaps some tea would be nice," she said.

He went to the Floo and tossed in some powder and placed an order to the kitchens. When he'd sat back down in his chair, he just observed her.

The tea arrived on the table, and she poured while he continued to watch her. She set the pot down with a clatter and turned to him.

"What do you find so interesting? Have I got something in my hair?"

His eyes flicked to her hair and back down to her face.

"Is it so wrong that I would want to look upon my wife? You're still a very beautiful woman."

She frowned at him, ever suspicious of his motives, even after all these years. Such an oddly fragile thing she was. Full of strength on the outside and broken into so many pieces on the inside.

"Are you unhappy, Lenore? Here? With me?"

She frowned and gave him an assessing stare. "What's this about, Severus? Aren't you a little young for a mid-life crisis? Is that what this is? Seven years of marriage, and suddenly you're full of doubts?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. I'm content." He brushed at a piece of lint on his robes. "I overheard a comment about me by one of the staff. It was: 'No wonder his wife is unhappy.' It has been on my mind all day. _Are_ you unhappy, Lenore?"

She drew herself up. "It seems the more relevant question is why are you allowing your staff to gossip about you? If something like that should make the papers, I shudder to think what the impact would be."

He turned away from her with a scowl.

"The persons responsible have been dealt with. As for the papers, they print what they like, and that sort of thing is in there all the time. No one pays their gossip any mind at all." He grabbed up his glass and took another sip. "You evade the question. What am I to infer from that?"

"Now you are just being maudlin. You know I detest that in a man. I've had a trying day, Severus. Why must you attack me as soon as I come in the door?"

He closed his eyes as he swallowed another sip and surrendered to the feeling of warmth that spread from his belly.

"It was not my intention to attack you. In fact, I've been sitting here waiting to see if there was any way in which I could make you _happy_."

"Obviously it is you who are unhappy. What do you want from me, Severus? Do you want me to simper at your displays of wit? Would you like me to wait on you hand and foot? Show more cleavage? Do I need to act more like a Death Eater's tart now?"

Snape surged up out of the chair. "Don't you dare!" he bellowed. "You _cannot_ pin that on me! You know I never wanted that! You damned well know that's not what I want!"

"That's why I married you!" she snapped back. "Because you_ didn't _want that! Why the sudden demands? Why can't you be happy with me the way that _I_ am!"

"I am! I could be! I just need to hear… I just need to _hear _that you are pleased with your choice. Not read it in a card I know Narcissa picked out for you to give me on our anniversary." Lenore blanched. He scrubbed a hand down his face and took a breath. "Is it really so wrong to want your wife to love you?" he asked, dejectedly.

She stood up from the sofa. Her fists were clenched as white as her face. "Yes. Yes, it is wrong. Love hurts us, Severus. It was the first thing we agreed on."

"But what about passion, Lenore? Don't you miss that? Maybe we need to get hurt a little in order to feel at all."

She stepped away from the sofa and walked towards the bedroom. "There is enough pain out there that could be helped through my productive efforts. Seeing young girls struggling for a decent meal hurts me enough, Severus. I don't need your pain, too. Spare me that if you have any decency."

He sighed in defeat and drank the last of his Firewhisky. He drew himself upright and clothed himself in what was left of his dignity.

"While we are on the subject of decency, _wife_, perhaps you could put a little more effort into faking happiness so you don't become common gossip amongst the staff again. You should be well-practiced at faking it by now." He set his glass down hard on the table and stalked out the door in a swirl of robes.

* * *

He stalked along the darkened corridors looking for miscreant students. A whisper of wind—the merest sigh of cloth—signaled someone up ahead. He came around a turn and saw the hem of a robe disappear around a corner. He increased his pace. Rounding the corner, he saw a girl running. A seventh-year, perhaps a tall sixth-year, by the size. It was hard to judge in the dim light. All he could make out was an enormous amount of hair and long, red robes. A Gryffindor headed for the kitchens.

Severus had let his old animosities die as best he could. As Headmaster, they were all his students now, but deep down, he was no better at staying impartial than Dumbledore had been. Unlike Dumbledore, he didn't elevate his former house. He struggled not persecute the one he'd learned to despise in his youth. All bets were off tonight. When he caught her, there would be no way they would win the cup this year.

He put on a last burst of speed and reached out and grabbed her by her upper arm.

Before he could say a word, the girl spun around and clouted him across the face.

"Who the hell do you think you are, laying a hand on me?" shouted a familiar voice. "I told you I wanted to be alone, you bastard!"

A quick Lumos, and his wand flared bright. He watched as Professor Krum's eyes widened with shock, and then all the blood drained from her face.

"Oh! Oh, Mother of Mercy! I'm so sorry, Headmaster! I thought you were… someone else." Her voice trailed off, and he watched as fresh tears tracked down her face. Her eyes were already red and swollen.

"Who did you think I was?" he said, his voice thick with many flavors of anger.

She didn't answer, just looked at the floor.

"Did you think I was your husband?" He shook her arm slightly when she didn't answer. "Did he do something to you, Granger?"

Her head came up, and he saw bewilderment on her face.

"Krum. It's Krum. That's the second time today you called me Granger."

He was thrown by her words. "I—my apologies. I don't know why I misspoke." He realized he was still gripping her arm and released her. "I repeat my question. Has he done something to you?"

"No. Not in the way you mean." She rubbed at her arm, and he hoped he hadn't left a bruise. He would send her some bruise paste, just in case. He knew he would need some for his cheek anyway.

"Why were you running in the dark?" he asked. "I thought you were a student."

She ran a shaking hand through her wild mane of hair. She'd been a student herself the last time he'd seen it so unkempt. She'd taken to wearing it throttled into control for longer than he cared to remember.

"I was heading to the kitchens for some tea," she said. "I heard footsteps and thought…"

"You thought your husband had come after you to finish an argument?"

"Basically, yes, sir. I'm very sorry."

He waved her worry aside.

"A woman could do worse than punch first when she's grabbed in the dark of the night." He took a deep breath. "So reassure me that my Defense Professor doesn't abuse my History Professor."

"No, sir. Not at all."

"And does my History Professor abuse my Defense Professor?"

"Not unless throttling him repeatedly in my head counts."

He gave an understanding snort.

"Would you mind if I join you for tea, Professor? I think we could both use a calming cup."

"Are you sure your History Professor isn't going to lose her job for punching the Headmaster?"

"Only if you tell anyone while I'm still Headmaster."

"I would have to be incredibly stupid to want to brag about something like that."

He smirked and led her towards the kitchens.

"You should be proud, you know," he said. "It's been decades since the last person actually landed one on me. Not counting spells, of course."

"I won't ask for details," she said with a quiet laugh of her own.

"You wouldn't get any," he assured her.

They made their way to the kitchens in companionable silence. Once there, the house-elves were tripping over themselves to please, and a simple pot of tea became a veritable feast of puddings.

"Tell me what you two argued about," he said, waving a forkful of tart.

"Am I telling a friend, or am I telling my employer?" she replied evasively.

"Let's meet halfway and think of it as telling your former teacher."

She smiled wryly and said, "Because when you were my teacher you always exuded an air that solicited private confidences…"

He grimaced. "You have a point. Although in my defense, I spent a lot of time listening to angst-ridden Slytherins. Perhaps you should think of me as a fellow Order member instead."

"That would work," she said with a nod. She pushed her hair back off her face. "It started over the matter you addressed earlier today and progressed on and off all day. To make a long story short, Viktor has decided we won't renew our contracts next year and will leave at the end of term."

Snape winced at the news. "And you objected to his decision? Or the fact that he made it for both of you?"

She scowled in anger. "I have to choose between them? I can't object to both? I'm tired of traipsing after him. I don't want to leave. I've worked my arse off to learn how to be a good teacher in a short amount of time. I'm proud of myself. I enjoy what I do. I've been living in constant uncertainty as to whether or not the Ministry will even offer me the job again next year, and he's got his knickers in a twist because he has to wake up early seven days a week for ten months out of the year, when the job is his for the taking. He's spoiled. He doesn't have to work, you know. He made a fortune playing Quidditch. He enjoys teaching. He just dislikes being told what to do when he knows he really doesn't have to."

"I assume since he doesn't have to work, that means he thinks you don't have to either," he said.

"That sums it up nicely." She waved a hand into the distance. "That's the way it always was before Binns had his great revelation, and you offering me the job. When he played Quidditch, we just lived out of suitcases. The two years he taught at Durmstrang, I had absolutely nothing to do, and I didn't like it one bit. He told me to think of it as having all the time I wanted to research anything I wanted, but the reality was rather different. Without direction, I took no satisfaction in it. Pure research is fine when you're experienced, but when you don't know what you don't know, you need someone to tell you where to look. It didn't take long for me to end up passionate about collecting new patterns for crocheting doilies. I thought I would lose my mind.

"Coming home was such a relief. When the Ministry sent that first letter, I pestered him to reply. He was done with teaching at Durmstrang anyway. The school is far too rigid. I can see why he chafes under other people's rules; it's a harsh place. We both thought he would be happier here, and he was. I was too. It felt like home, and I could see Harry and Ron by just stepping through a Floo. When Binns faded away, I felt so terrible for being ecstatic, but it seemed like the angels had answered my dreams."

He snorted, and she gave him an annoyed glance.

"Gryffindors. You're all so bloody blind when you want to be."

"What are you saying?" she asked with suspicion.

He sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair, pulling the clasp out and letting it fall before scrubbing his hands at his scalp.

"I was hounded. Every day I had Filius and Hagrid in one ear and Minerva in the other ear twittering on about what a waste of talent is was that you were just a housewife."

"Are you saying—"

"That Binns might have had a bit of help in coming to terms with his nonexistence? Yes. It was lose the teacher that had turned eight generations against bothering with history, or lose either Filius or Minerva. They were both threatening to retire so you could take their job. I'm sure you can appreciate why I might want my students to learn not to repeat history."

"How did you—?"

"It was simple, really. I told him that I had arranged for a Time Turner so he could go back and witness the Goblin Wars, but he had to be ready to go as soon as it arrived. The day he disappeared, I showed up in the doorway and held up a watch on a chain. He walked out the door, took the watch, and faded away."

"How did you know it would work?"

"Binns was stuck. He needed to get unstuck. Only his heart's desire would do that."

"What about the watch? Was it magical?"

"No. Just an ordinary time piece. Isn't it traditional to get a watch when you retire?"

"I feel dreadful!" she cried as she sloshed her tea all over the table.

He scowled.

"What on earth for?"

"What for? You lied to him, and he died! Just so I could have a job!"

"He was already _dead_, Granger. And how do you know he's not off watching the Goblin Wars anyway? The power of suggestion is a potent thing."

She swiped at the spilled tea with her wand and took a deep breath. "I hope so. It would be lovely to think he was off observing the minutiae he always found so fascinating." Her face changed from worry to curiosity in an eye blink. "Why do you keep calling me Granger?"

He came up short and stared at her again. "I don't know. I think you're just always going to be Granger to me. If Potter was to change his name, I doubt seriously I would ever get that right, either."

She smiled at that. "That does make a sort of sense. Call me what you like then, Headmaster. I don't mind."

He harrumphed and sipped his tea.

"So what do you think you will do? The position is yours next year if you chose, you know. It was Filius' idea to make you think you were up against the wall. He said you needed a challenge after so long adrift."

Hermione looked down at her hands.

"I don't know. Knowing what everyone did, and Binns' sacrifice does add a bit of weight. I'll need time to think. I want to stay, but I don't want to harm my marriage. Does that sound too Hufflepuff?"

Snape gave her a long, hard stare. "No. A marriage should be worth sacrifice," he said with feeling. Her look turned speculative, and he turned away before she saw too much.

"Your cheek is swelling," she said, clumsily switching the topic away.

He closed his eyes in relief and prodded the bruise gently with his fingertips.

"It _was_ a good hit," he said with emphasis. He turned his head farther away. "Gibby!" An elf popped up at his elbow. "Fetch me some Bruise Paste from the infirmary, if you would." The elf popped away without a word. "Gibby's mute. That's why he's my personal favorite." He explained as he gathered his hair back off his face into the clasp again. The jar appeared on the table with a soft pop. "He's also rather unsocial," he added, lifting the lid off the jar.

"Another point in his favor?" she quipped.

"Indeed." He scooped up a dollop and started to smooth it over his cheek. "You should take as much time as you need in making your decision, Gra—Krum. Bollocks. You do realize Krum is a rather insipid name, don't you?" She laughed at him, and he scowled. "Bad form to laugh at your employer."

"I'm not. I'm laughing at my fellow Order Member. Why don't you call me Hermione?"

"Too informal. Must keep the lines clearly defined, don't you know. It says so in the Headmaster's handbook."

"There's a handbook?"

"Yes, and each chapter is kept up on the walls in frames to twitter at you if you do something wrong."

"Ah. The portraits, of course," she said with a laugh. "But you don't mind breaking the rules with Pomona or Minerva or Filius…"

He gave her a wry smile. "First of all, they were colleagues for uncounted years. Before that, they all caught me doing something embarrassing as a student at one time or another. It's hard to maintain boundaries with a professor that remembers walking in on you popping pimples in the boys' lav." He waved a hand dismissively. "Besides, they all know the protocols and have enough tact to address me in the correct manner depending on the situation. I have no such assurances with you. I seem to recall a tendency to flout the rules whenever you saw fit. Best not to court disaster. I shall keep you in your place. Mark my words."

"Yes, _Headmaster_," she replied with cheek. "Here, you keep missing the same spot." She dipped two fingers into the jar and massaged it gently into his temple. She had the same firm but light touch as Madame Pomfrey, he noted with clinical detachment. "As for Viktor and me, I'll keep you informed about my decision. It's only fair after everything everyone did. There. That should be gone in no time."

"Thank you. I would appreciate updates in the matter, and you can be assured I will be discreet." He capped the jar and handed it to her. "Your arm. I might have been a little rough," he said. "My apologies."

"Thank you, and you're forgiven. Easily." She took the jar and then gave him a direct stare. "Did you want to talk about why you were storming through the castle in such a foul mood? I'm all ears. It's the least I can do, and I can keep secrets as well, you know."

He gave her a polite twitch of a smile and declined. "I've had enough conversation for one night, if it's all the same to you, Granger. Boundaries and protocols and all that."

"I understand. 'Uneasy lies the head…?'"

"Precisely," he replied. "Go to bed, Professor. And speak to your husband when your tempers have cooled. Passion can only ever get in the way."

She gave him a look that seemed oddly shocked before bidding him good night and climbing out the portrait hole.

He sat at the table lost in his thoughts, vaguely staring at the place she'd occupied until the elves started to appear in order to get ready for breakfast. Rubbing a hand across the stubble on his face, he pushed up from his chair with a sigh.

* * *

Reviews are luv.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** Thank you to my team, any mistakes you see are because I noodled with it after I got it back from the cleaners. I can never leave things alone...

* * *

Headmaster Snape strolled down the hall, nodding to students and waving them off toward their common rooms. They were harder to settle and louder than usual due to Hufflepuff's absolute trouncing of Slytherin that morning in a shocking upset.

More money had changed hands among the staff after that game than he could remember seeing since he'd lost a hundred Galleons to Minerva on Potter's first game. As Headmaster, he refrained from the less refined appreciation of the sport. Taking money from his staff didn't seem like a sound way to keep a harmonious atmosphere.

Laughter bubbled up from the stairs below him, and he looked over the rail with curiosity. Sprout and Granger were smiling at Terrence Higgs who had made a bit of a fool of himself after his house lost. The Arithmancy professor had demanded to inspect the equipment, sure that only foul play could have caused a score of two hundred and thirty to twenty in a game that had only lasted ten minutes.

Obviously, Snape's private talk with his former student after the game had had an effect. Higgs smiled sheepishly at Pomona's good-natured ribbing. The Headmaster turned and headed down the stairs toward them.

Sprout noticed him first. "Headmaster! You should come join us!"

"Join you? In what endeavor, may I ask?"

"Terry here needs a bit of cheering up. I'm taking him down to the Three Broomsticks. He lost so much money today, he can't afford to sneeze."

Snape turned toward Higgs and gave him a questioning stare. Higgs affected a dejected air, but then he smiled and shook his head.

"It's not as bad as that, Headmaster, but it _was_ a good hit."

Snape couldn't help glancing over at Granger at those last words. She also seemed to have caught the reminder, and after darting a quick look at him with laughing eyes, she spun away and busied herself with putting her cloak on.

"What say you, Headmaster?" Pomona prodded. "Aurora, Minerva, and Filius are holding down the fort. Hooch and Viktor are already on their way to the pub to grab us a table. Do come."

"As it happens, I have a bit of free time this evening," he said. He called Gibby, and in a moment had his cloak in hand. "I shall join you, but only for a little while."

Granger pushed open the doors, only to find Hooch and Krum standing on the front steps apparently deconstructing every score in the game. Snape heard Granger sigh as she cast a warming charm over them both.

"How long ago did they leave?" he asked Higgs.

"Twenty minutes ago."

Hooch's disconcerting eyes widened when she saw the Headmaster on the stairs.

"Right, I'll just pop ahead and get us a table then, shall I?" she blurted. She pulled her shrunken broom out of her pocket and in a moment was rocketing her way into the village.

They all set off after her, walking in a group toward the gate.

Snape watched the interplay between Granger and her husband as Sprout and Higgs bantered back and forth about Hufflepuff's new Seeker.

Krum walked with his usual waddling stride that nevertheless seemed to eat ground. Granger seemed to take two steps for his every one. They both were smiling, and yet, now that Snape knew there was something to look for, certain things became obvious. Krum took no notice of his wife's difficulty with keeping up, and Granger seemed strangely disinclined to chastise him. She just scooted along next to him like a slightly demented terrier.

They found their table in the corner, Rosmerta sending his preferred blend of Ogden's without his having to even raise an eyebrow. He sat himself next to Higgs in a rare display of Slytherin solidarity. The game was rehashed, the betting pool on the next game between Slytherin and Gryffindor was started, and the Headmaster bought the first round.

He enjoyed the camaraderie, although he participated little and was careful not to become too relaxed. It wouldn't do for him to let them become too comfortable around him. He knew he had years to go before he held the gravitas of a Dumbledore and would be respected no matter what he behaved like. Sprout and Hooch weren't a problem, but this younger crop of teachers needed a bit of a stiff arm.

His opinion of Krum, already somewhat low due to his superior attitude when he'd started the job, had plummeted after Snape's conversation with Krum's wife the other night. Snape honestly didn't want him on his staff next term, and only Granger kept the offer open. Granger herself had undergone a bit of a change in his mind. He'd easily written her off as a capable irritant when she'd started—his opinion of her still sadly marred by her exploits as a student—but she'd turned herself into a solid asset to the school with admirable dedication toward her duties. His lingering tendency to think of her as a student had been firmly blotted out by the small bit of frustrated biography she'd shared with him privately. The trials and tribulations were far too mundane and adult to keep seeing her as a silly little girl playing dress up.

Terrence had suffered from the same syndrome when he'd replaced Vector five years ago. It had been hard for Snape to stop seeing him as the sniveling, homesick first-year, or the star Slytherin Seeker he'd later become, and take him serious as a brilliant Arithmancer and potential Head of House. Ange Fouciley, the Belgian Potions mistress had glided right in to her position, but then she'd never been one of Snape's students. Nor had the Muggle Studies teacher, Lloyd Chalmers, from New Zealand. He'd had no problems treating either of them with the proper respect and equally no problem keeping the three of them at a distance.

Granger _was_ a problem though. His conversation with her in the kitchens the other night had seemed harmless, but it had left him feeling oddly vulnerable. Exposed. He'd gone back over their interaction several times in his head and was still convinced that he had maintained his proper role of elder advisor and confidante, but something was still off. Their exchange had been, perhaps, a bit too comfortable. Was it the way he had simply allowed her to tend to his injury? Allowed her to actually touch him? It had felt like nothing more than Poppy Pomfrey had ever done, or even Minerva on occasion. Was it the fact that she seemed to pick up more than he'd said about his own personal matters? He didn't have an answer. All he knew is that there were lingering effects that made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn't explain.

Conversation around him inevitably circled back to the small elations and daily frustrations of the job, and Snape knew it was his cue to depart. He remembered the inhibiting effect a Headmaster had on a good bitch-session. He also knew his wife was due home soon, and he always preferred to be there when she arrived. He always made it a point to hear about her day.

He rose amid insincere protestations at his early withdrawal and nodded to each in turn. He walked back to Hogwarts trying to make sense of the honest disappointment in Granger's eyes as he'd left.

* * *

Hermione flicked the light out in her office and set the wards on her door before turning and making her way to her rooms. She was still carrying a stack of unmarked scrolls, preferring to work on them in her rooms where she could let her hair down and put her feet up. It was late, and she was tired. She missed hopping the trick step, but did manage to catch herself before she ended up in an undignified sprawl. With a sigh, she started back down the stairs, picking up her scrolls as she went. She felt a breeze of magic, and her scrolls lifted up and danced through the air toward her.

"Even after all this time, you still forget you're a witch?" came an amused drawl in a low, resonant voice.

Hermione turned and blinked repeatedly at the Headmaster, standing at the top of the stairs above her.

"I guess I do," she said, with a distracted smile, fascinated by his mere presence. She reached out and scooped up the scrolls. "Thank you, sir."

He nodded to her gracefully, and with a polite, "Good evening, Professor," he was gone in a swirl of robes.

'_How does he do that?' _she wondered to herself, not for the first time, as she ascended the rest of the stairs. _'How does he suddenly appear, make you completely and utterly aware of him, and then just fade away again?'_

It wasn't hard to look back and see that he'd always been that way to an extent. His ability to appear at just the right—or wrong—time had been legendary long before she'd arrived as a firstie. His capacity to fill a classroom with his presence even before he'd entered it had been beyond intimidating as a student.

It was only this past year, working with him on staff, that she'd seen the effect he had without the accompanying terror. Alright, she freely admitted that she'd been incredibly intimidated for the first few months, but after watching him that day in the greenhouse, she'd started to see him in a new light. Her conversation with him in the kitchens had been surprisingly humanizing. Still, he managed to radiate an aloofness that was hard to get a handle on.

The other night at the pub was a perfect example. He hardly seemed to be aware of just how much the tone of the room had shifted when he'd entered last in line. She'd spent the entire time watching not only him, but the room around him, trying to define what it was that seemed to be so captivating, not just to her, but to the other people in the crowded place. Only Dumbledore had drawn more of an impact. Perhaps it was just a side effect of the job. She'd tried talking to the others about it after he'd left, but only Pomona understood what she'd been trying to say.

"He just _is_ that way. I think it comes from the intensity with which he does everything he sets his mind to. He was like that as a student," she'd said. "It wasn't appreciated by his peers, I can tell you. I think he didn't really come into his own until he was your age, a few years after You-Know-Who's first defeat. You wouldn't have seen it much as a student; those years Mr. Potter was here were rather hard on him, to say the least."

Hermione had nodded in understanding and let the conversation drift away again. The man was an enigma. She wondered if she wasn't beginning to become a little obsessed with figuring him out.

She entered her rooms and found Viktor sprawled, arms and legs akimbo, sound asleep on the couch. She smiled and dumped her scrolls on the desk before turning to help him into bed. She wondered briefly if Madame Snape ever came home and found her exhausted husband in such an inelegant pose. The picture wouldn't form in her head. The man probably slept in a dignified manner. She'd been enough places with Viktor over the years to experience the adoration of his fans and the effect he could have on a room, but somehow, he'd never managed a tenth of the reaction the Headmaster could pull off with just a lifted eyebrow.

* * *

Hermione was walking down the hallway after dinner, when she spotted a knot of students outside the second floor girl's lavatory. She was experienced enough at this point to know trouble when she saw it and headed straight toward the muttering crowd.

"What is going on here?" she asked in her best no-nonsense teacher's voice.

Darla Claymore, a fifth-year Ravenclaw, answered. "It's Daniel and Neil. They opened the chamber to show off for Prudence, and they haven't come back out."

Hermione blanched. "Opened the— Say that again?"

"Daniel Bracken and Cornelius Hyde were bragging about how they figured out how to say 'open' in Parseltongue from reading a book about the war. Prudence Clearwater didn't believe them, so they went and did it."

Hermione pushed her way through the crowd and saw a sight she'd hoped never to see again. Where a sink had been, there was now a tunnel leading out of sight.

"Those idiots!" she said. "How long have they been down there?" she asked the closest student.

"Over an hour now. They missed dinner."

She leaned her head into the pipe and shouted out, but if there was an answer, it was drowned out by the babbling students. "Silence!" she shouted. She called again and this time heard a faint groan. She turned and fired off a Patronus to the Headmaster.

Just then Argus Filch bullied his way into the lavatory. "What's this? What's goin' on 'ere. Oh! Professor Krum. What's this all about?"

"Students up to no good, Mr. Filch. Clear these children away, if you will. The headmaster should be on his way. I'm going down there. I think someone's hurt." Filch immediately started bellowing at the students as Hermione took several deep breaths. She cast the same Levitation Charm on herself that she and Ron had used eight years before and slipped into the pipe, pushing herself down the slimy chute with her finger-tips while clutching her lit wand.

The sounds of moaning grew louder as she increased her pace. She felt the pipe straighten out, and then she moved forward cautiously.

She cast a Lumos and found Cornelius Hyde on the floor at the end of the pipe. He was bleeding from the head and cradling his arm. The light from her Lumos didn't carry very far, and she saw no sign of another student.

"Mr. Hyde! Are you alright?"

"I hit my head. I went down headfirst. I think my arm is broken," moaned the miserable boy.

Hermione started to cast several charms to ascertain his injuries. "Where is Mr. Bracken?"

"He stormed off. We got into a fight when we realized we couldn't get back up the pipe and he left me here."

She found the boy had minor bruises, the gash on his head, a concussion, and the broken arm. She stopped the bleeding on his scalp and sent a Patronus to Madame Pomfrey. She wasn't sure how to get the boy back up the pipe until she hit on an idea.

"Gibby!" she called. He was the only house-elf she knew by name anymore. The elf popped up at her side. "Do you think you could take Mr. Hyde here to the infirmary? He's hurt and—" She hadn't finished her instructions before the little elf reached down and both elf and student disappeared with a pop. "Right. Thank you," she said to the empty air.

She turned around and looked down the passage toward the echoing darkness of the Chamber. Her brain knew there was no longer any monster lurking about, but her body was slow to get the message.

"Hello? Mr. Bracken? Daniel can you hear me?" She listened to the echoes die down, hoping to hear a call, a cry, or even another groan. She heard nothing. She started down the tunnel, arguing with her nerves. It felt like all the fine hairs on her body were trying to stand up and leave. She heard a sound behind her and spun around. Light flared in the pipe and she raced back toward it in relief.

"Granger? Are you down there?"

"Yes! I'm here!" she called up to her Headmaster, nearly weak from the relief his voice had brought to her.

"I'm coming down," he called.

Hermione backed away when she heard the rushing sound of someone taking the fast way down the chute. Torches flared to life as he came down the tunnel.

She backed up farther as the Headmaster shot out, long legs first, and managed to land on his feet. Unfortunately, she'd tripped over a stone while backing up and landed on her arse.

She scrambled back to her feet under his irritated gaze. He looked worse for wear, the slime in the pipe had done a number on his robes. She assumed hers weren't much better.

"Bloody Gryffindors!" he spat, as he looked around. "Any sign of them?" he asked. He looked furious, which wasn't unexpected. Hermione would have been furious as well, if she wasn't busy being mildly hysterical.

"I found Mr. Hyde. I had Gibby transfer him to the infirmary just a few moments ago. I haven't made it much farther."

"How badly was he hurt?" the Headmaster asked with concern.

"Concussion, broken arm, and a head wound that I already closed. He took a bad tumble as he exited the pipe. Nothing life-threatening. Yet. I won't count his chances once Filch gets a hold of him."

"Indeed," Snape hissed. "I might just let him play with his manacles."

They both took a moment to orient themselves in the lighted passage.

"Why did the torches come on for you and not me?" she asked, looking about the chamber with curiosity. "I couldn't see a thing. I didn't even know there _were_ torches."

The Headmaster gave her an annoyed look. "Think about it, Granger. Why would the secret chamber of Salazar Slytherin not bother to light _your_ way?"

"Oh," she said, hurt by the Headmaster's seeming derision. The logical conclusion was that it was because she was Muggleborn. She turned away and started down the tunnel toward the Chamber, looking intently at the ground for a sign.

It was a few moments before she heard him come after her.

"Granger," he called.

She didn't stop, just kept slowly moving forward, eyes on the rocky ground. "Yes, Headmaster?"

She heard his footsteps quicken, and then he grabbed her by her arm and pulled her around to face him.

"I didn't imply that it was _right_, just that it's the most logical conclusion," he said impatiently.

"Well, it's a stupid conclusion!" she snapped. "Ron's a Pureblood; the torches never came on for him either."

His eyes widened in surprise. "No- I didn't- I meant—" he scowled at her, obviously flustered. "I meant it's because I'm _Slytherin_, Granger. I wasn't casting aspersions on your blood status."

"Oh," she said, feeling rather foolish. She pulled her arm out of his hand and moved away. She heard him huff a breath, but didn't want to look up and see she'd irritated him again. For some inexplicable reason, it hurt. She hurried over the stones and past the area where Lockhart had pulled the ceiling down on top of himself until she found a clear patch of floor. There she found what she'd expected. Shoe prints in the dust leading into the chamber.

She waited until he caught up to her and pointed. He stared at her and opened his mouth to say something, but just closed it again and nodded before taking the lead. The two of them followed the prints out into the chamber. A quick look around revealed nothing. Hermione went to cast _Homenum Revelio_,but Snape grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"There _might_ be ways the chamber disrespects people of your birth, Granger," he said with obvious concern. "I would prefer if you didn't send any spells across the chamber itself."

"Oh. That makes sense. But wouldn't you be in danger? Being a half-blood?"

He gave her a tight grimace. "I'm also the Headmaster. Even if my status is less pure than Mr. Weasley or your _Krum_, I'm still the least likely to be injured by any wards in the school."

Afraid to open her mouth and say anything to make herself look even more ignorant, she just stepped back and nodded to him. He struck out across the floor, following the tracks with his wand gripped in his hand. She followed right behind him, clutching hers and wondering how in the space of two minutes they had gone from her being defensive about her blood status to him sounding defensive about his.

She shook her head and just kept her eyes roaming about the chamber.

The headmaster stopped and reached back to grab her shoulder. She stepped up close to him as he pointed, and she followed his arm to where they could plainly see the student lying across the foot of the giant statue of an ugly wizard. As the echoes from their footsteps died away, they could hear a quiet snoring.

Hermione and Snape shared an unguarded look of mutual indignation, irony, and profound relief.

"I'll kill him," she muttered. "I've been scared witless this entire time, and he's sleeping?"

"I thank you for putting the safety of the children before your fears, Granger," the Headmaster replied.

She smiled up at him. "I had a good example to follow. You did as much when I was a student, did you not?"

He turned and looked down at her and then quirked his lips. "Daily," he said. "Especially when Longbottom was near a cauldron."

They shared a wry smile, and then, in the blink of an eye, looking at each other became awkward. They both spun away and hurried over to the sleeping student.

* * *

"Any other news to share before we go over the budget?" asked the Deputy Headmistress.

"I had to break up a shouting match between Bracken and Hyde today," Professor Chalmers said. Hermione looked up from the minutes she was jotting and then scribbled that tidbit down as well. "It seems they're still not on the best of terms. I guess Filch's detentions are starting to cause a bit of strain."

"Good," said the Headmaster. "Perhaps in the future, they will see that trying to impress a girl isn't worth nearly losing their lives."

Viktor poked her arm and handed her a cup of tea, urging her to pass it on to Minerva who was sitting on her right.

"I don't know. Some girls are worth nearly dying for," quipped Terrence.

"Oh, to be young and stupid," said Filius in a theatrically whimsical voice as he stood up on his chair to reach for the tea Viktor was passing to him.

"Alright, how about: some girls are worth inconveniencing yourself for. Does that suit?"

"Hardly," drawled the Headmaster.

Hermione darted a look and found him sneering at the Arithmancy teacher.

"I disagree. I think the right girl is vorth at least a serious inconvenience or two," said Viktor, eliciting awws and chuckles.

Hermione was mortified. It was important to her that she maintained a professional demeanor at all times and alluding to private matters pertaining to their relationship didn't fit the bill. No wonder the Headmaster had been angry at her for Viktor's comments about his wife. She plastered a smile on her face and hoped it looked like she was blushing. In fact, she was suddenly furious. Aside from resenting him for embarrassing her, she couldn't list four instances offhand where Viktor had inconvenienced himself for her in the last five years. He couldn't even be arsed to leave the seat down. The Headmaster might sound like an unromantic curmudgeon, but at least he'd sounded honest. She darted another look at Snape and saw him staring right at her for just a moment before his eyes slid over toward her husband, and his brows drew down.

"Do you think we could possibly stick to the subject at hand?" he snapped. "Minerva, move on to the budget."

Hermione buried her face in the minutes of the meeting and didn't look up again until it was time to head to dinner.

* * *

"Hagrid, why is there Thestral dung all over my front steps?" the Headmaster asked with his eyes closed. He wasn't sure if he was grateful he'd already eaten breakfast or not.

"Ah, well, you see sir, the students have been learnin' a bit about their habits an' all. In class, like. An' since not too many of 'em can actually see 'em, bless 'em, they sort of—you see, what they did, was…"

"Hagrid…" Snape's voice betrayed the slight impatience that he usually struggled against when dealing with the sensitive man.

"The students took some raw meat from the kitchens last night and left it out on the stairs, sir. They wanted to see Thestral tracks in the snow this morning."

"And did you, perchance, happen to encourage this endeavor in anyway?"

"No, sir. I wouldna done tha'. They've sensitive tummies, Thestrals. As you can see."

Snape looked up into the earnest face and sighed. "In your next class, I would appreciate you spending time stressing the basics of proper animal handling and perhaps a few minutes on etiquette as well. Get this mess cleaned up."

"Yes, Headmaster. I will."

Snape turned away and headed back inside the school. It was not an auspicious start to the day.

"Good morning, Headmaster."

He turned and saw Granger heading to breakfast alone.

"Where's your inconvenienced half?" he drawled.

Her eyes lit up with a conspiratorial smile before they dimmed. "We had an inconvenient disagreement last night that he apparently didn't find worthwhile. He actually headed to breakfast early for once," she said. "What's that smell?"

He waved a hand at the doors behind him. "One of Hagrid's classes was conducting Thestral research."

"Ugh, it smells like poo," she said.

"That would be the end product of the experiment. Come, allow me to escort you to breakfast _if _you still have an appetite."

"Certainly," she said as she fell into step beside him.

"I'm going to need chaperones for the upcoming dance, Granger. What is your schedule that weekend?"

"I won't be available, sir. I have to be at the charity ball thrown by the Ministry like a good little war heroine."

"I see. Shirking your duties as a staff member already. As a penalty, you're to make a list of all the staff that _will _be available that weekend."

She slid a worried look at him, but her expression quickly dissolved into a smirk.

"Too much on your plate?" she asked.

"Indeed."

"You know, you _could_ just ask."

"Where would be the fun in that?" he quipped.

"Which chapter in the handbook mentioned you were allowed to have fun?" she retorted.

"That would be Headmaster Black, in the chapter titled: 'Less Work and More Fun the Slytherin Way.'"

She burst into a crystalline giggle as he swung open the doors to the Great Hall. He found himself twitching a smile in response and managed to twist it into a sneer as he scowled at the students on principle. He nodded to her stiffly and headed to his seat.

* * *

Reviews make my day. Go ahead. _ Make...my...day..._

*gigglesnort*


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** Thank you to **astopperindeath** for the beta. More thanks go to **Hebe GB **and **Dressagegrrl** for britpick and content and flow. Lurve you peeps. I really do.

* * *

The Headmaster of Hogwarts was having yet another bad day. Granted his current definition of a bad day was markedly different to that of his first year as Headmaster, but it was certainly unpleasant nonetheless. The Friday afternoon staff meeting being the capper.

"Pomona, can't you curb your Hufflepuffs? I've had to take almost a hundred points from them so far this week!" Professor Higgs snapped.

"As if your precious Slytherins are above being absent-minded around this time of year," she snorted.

"At least they know subtlety. You'd never catch one of my students begging for a date in the middle of a class!"

"Terrence has a point," Filius put in.

Snape pinched the bridge of his nose to try and stop the headache as Hagrid jumped to Sprout's defense. By the time Minerva and Irma joined the argument, dragging nearly all of the rest of the staff with them, he was close to losing his temper completely. He felt a hand on his arm and looked to the side to see Granger offering him a fresh cup of tea and a sympathetic smile.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "I detest Valentine's Day. Every year it is the same. I cannot tell you how glad I will be when it's over."

"I have to say, being on this side of it has been a rather eye-opening experience."

"My opinion has never changed. I thought it the height of stupidity even as a student."

"It certainly has a way of making the less fortunate students feel inadequate. I know that first-hand."

He gave her a glance before surveying the chaos in the room again. "I don't recall you having troubles in that department, Granger. I thought you had your own harem. What with Krum there and then there was Weasley and Potter as well."

She snorted. "Hardly, Headmaster. Viktor took me to the Ball during the Tri-Wizard tournament, and that was the sum total of my romantic entanglements during my school years. Ron and I didn't start dating until after the final battle, and that lasted a whole three months before we decided to break up during a furious case of the giggles the first time we tried to have sex. Harry and I were never—" She shuddered. "Just, no."

He grimaced at her. "I thank you for that overly revealing bit of personal information. I had no idea. Nor, I can say with total honesty, was I actually interested."

She laughed quietly as she poured her husband more tea and slid his cup back towards where he was sitting staring in amusement at the antics of their co-workers. She straightened and then leaned closer, and he detected a hint of lemongrass in her shampoo.

"Headmaster Snape, with all due respect to protocol and boundaries, you have an amazing ability to be a complete prat."

"It's a skill." He smirked, amused. He pushed back from the table and grabbed up his notes. "Granger, when they finish, tell them that I will decide the fate of their precious Valentine's Day decorations by Imperial Decree and send them all a memo when I get around to it. They've lost their chance to have a say in the matter. By the way, if you have a moment later, I would like you to come to my office. I want a word with you."

"Yes, sir. I'll be there after dinner."

He nodded and then looked around the room in disgust and walked out.

* * *

Dinner was a subdued affair. Most of his staff spent the meal in silence, sending him contrite looks and murmuring quiet apologies as they found various reasons to walk past his chair. He granted them no quarter, just graced them with his disappointment whenever he felt like making eye contact. The students sensed the mood of the table and were unusually quiet. Since he always ate his supper early with his wife when she was in the castle, he had the entire meal to sit and glower at them while idly playing with his water glass. Only the Krums were spared his displeasure. They never partook in these occasional displays of ever-changing partisanship. Krum, because he had no loyalty to anyone but himself, and Granger, because she was too polite.

When he decided they were all properly chastised, he pushed back his chair and rose up. The hall fell silent as he swept out the doors in a billow of green.

Snape returned to his rooms and changed out of his heavy robes.

"You're back early; are they cowering already?" Lenore asked, looking up from her writing.

"Of course," he replied, walking back into the sitting room. He pulled the clasp from his hair and scratched at his scalp. "I'd have kept them there all night until they did."

"You would hardly need all night. I dare say, you probably didn't need as much time as you took. I think you just like indulging yourself." He jerked his head over at her as he was unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves but saw the slight warmth in her eyes that signaled her rarely seen sense of humor. His heart skipped a beat, and he gave her an answering smile.

"Who are you writing to?" he asked.

"Vanessa Umbridge is at sixes and sevens over the Ministry Ball next weekend. I'm trying to help her fend off that odious sister-in-law of hers."

"What is Dolores up to now?"

"Vanessa is in charge of the decorating committee, and Dolores is trying to usurp her position. The woman has no taste, and I fear the whole event will be awash in the most grotesque shades of pink. Not that I don't find Valentine's Day to be grotesque anyway."

"I agree. Tell Vanessa to fill the room with ice sculptures in the form of centaurs."

"Severus!" she tittered. "You are shockingly brilliant and very naughty."

He went to her and gently stroked one finger along her hair, murmuring, "Only for you, my dear." Her eyes landed on his faded Dark Mark, and she stiffened up immediately. He snatched his hand away as if burned. "My apologies, Lenore. I-"

A chime sounded, signaling someone on the stairs to his office.

"Enough of your foolishness, Severus. Go and see to your business. I have to get through this correspondence before my headache gets any worse." And just that fast, she shut him back out of her life.

He stormed across the room but was stopped by her voice.

"Do get dressed, Severus."

He looked down at his slacks and shirt. "It's only Granger. A personal matter only vaguely related to the school. Informal will do."

"Why do you insist on not addressing her properly? It's Professor Krum, and you would do well to never forget your place. It's unbecoming the way you treat her."

"Jealousy, Lenore? Never fear. You keep me in my place quite well."

"For heaven's sake, at least button-up your sleeves! You can't go about the school with that ghastly mark on your arm!" she hissed. "It's scandalous!"

He snarled at her and spun away, snatching a cloak as he passed the door. He didn't bother to put it on.

Granger was sitting in front of his desk as he pushed the tapestry aside.

"My apologies, Professor Krum. I didn't intend to keep you waiting."

"No bother at all, Headmaster. I was just catching up with Professor Dumbledore."

He slid his eyes to the portrait, and he saw Albus flick his fingers subtly. The silencing charms on the tapestry worked on human ears. Portraits heard everything, and these portraits knew the secrets of his private life—a galling fact every Headmaster had to live with. He nodded to Albus and took him up on his advice.

"Walk with me, Professor. I find myself in need of air," he said, as he headed toward the moving stairs. He shoved his arms into his cloak and grabbed a second cloak off the peg by the door and tossed it to her. "You don't mind brisk, do you?"

"No, sir."

* * *

Hermione skipped along in her Headmaster's wake trying valiantly not to trip over the hem of her borrowed cloak. He'd applied warming charms to both of them before he'd thrown open the doors of the school and stormed out into the cold night towards the Quidditch pitch.

She'd been full of worry since he'd erupted out from behind the tapestry in his shirt-sleeves with his hair flying around him like black seaweed. His face had been a mask of fury and he'd radiated waves of pain that had left her reeling.

He stopped suddenly, and she slammed into his back, stumbling a few steps before catching herself. "Sorry, sir," she said breathlessly.

He turned and gave her a long look before pulling out his wand and blasting the snow and ice off a group of benches in the stadium and casting another warming charm.

He gestured and she gathered up the yards of fabric and sat. He moved to the bench below her and sat down facing her.

"I wanted to find out what your thoughts are as far as the job next year, Professor."

"Maybe it would be better if we talked a bit first about what is bothering you?" she blurted without thought.

The bright, cold moonlight reflected off the surrounding snow and showed every detail of his shocked and angry expression.

"You presume too much," he said in a dark voice.

"No. I don't think I do. You're obviously deeply upset, and as far as I can see you haven't anyone to talk to. You dragged me out here to talk about my marriage and my job, right?"

"Yes, because it affects the school."

"Well, maybe seeing you disturbed affects my decision." She frowned and waved a hand as if to erase that statement. "I don't know. I just don't like to see you distressed. You're a good man and a great boss, and it's hard to see you so upset and not want to do something. Please. Tell me what's wrong."

He stood in a rush, and she knew she had to do something before he started back to the school. She jumped to her feet and yelled, "Stop!" He did. He turned to her in surprise as she pointed back to the bench he'd been sitting on. "Sit down, Severus." Her voice cracked on his name but she lifted her chin and soldiered on. "You need to talk to someone, and I know I'm making a Merlin-be-damned hash of this, but by Nimue's Tiny Toe, I'll be damned if I'm going to watch you walk off in pain without trying to help. It's what friends do, and I do respect you as an employer, but I've come to think of you as a friend as well."

She knew her words had succeeded by the simple fact that she was still breathing. He raised an eyebrow at her but came and sat back down. Hermione wrapped herself in the folds of his spice-scented cloak and sat as well.

"'Nimue's Tiny Toe'? Is that really the best you can come up with?" he asked in an incredulous voice.

"Basically. I've never been very good at swearing, although I have a dreadful mouth when I'm drunk. Not that I'm an angry drunk, mind. Just a, er, sloppy one, with a foul mouth."

"I might have to hear that sometime."

She laughed nervously and shook her head. "Not likely. I'm sure it would effect my ability to maintain any dignity on the job."

He breathed in and blew out a cloud of air.

"Where do things stand with that, Granger? Have you talked to your husband?"

She looked down and played with the folds of the cloak.

"We've talked. He admits that the steps that were made towards opening up a position for me make things more complex than he'd thought. But he's not happy about it. He feels like he's being coerced now."

"What is his position on you teaching? Is he unhappy that you have any job at all?"

"Well, it's complicated. He loves that I'm smart. He always says that's what first attracted him to me. He likes when I have a purpose as well. It's just that he doesn't understand why I'm not more like him. He throws himself into things with a passion until he's the best there is, and then when he's done, he moves on to another passion. I'm supposed to throw myself after him each time."

"But you're much more constant."

"Basically. It was easy in the beginning. He was my constant."

"Can you not continue here while he chases his fairy tales?"

"He wants to go home to Bulgaria." She hung her head at how weak that made her sound. "In the weeks since you and I spoke last, we've gone from arguing about what's wrong with our jobs to what's fundamentally wrong with our marriage. In order for one of us to be happy, the other will have to surrender. It's a trap I can't see a way out of."

"And it will be you, won't it? You'll be the one to give up your happiness."

"Shouldn't it be? You said yourself, 'marriage takes sacrifice.' I've been repeating that to myself a lot. I don't think Viktor is capable. If he were to stay for me, eventually he would get so miserable he would start to hate me. If I leave for him, there's a chance I could find another way to make myself happy."

"And is there no chance of happiness for yourself if he leaves you?" he asked.

Her eyes swam with sudden tears. "I don't know. Sometimes, the misery you know is better than the potential misery you fear. I do love him, and I know he loves me. I don't want to lose that. I don't want to start all over with someone else. I don't want to have to go through the process of letting someone else see my flaws and hoping they don't mind. I don't want to have to explain why I occasionally scream in my sleep, you know? Viktor knows me. He knows what makes me tick. He was the one that taught me to smile again after the war. He swept me up into his world and kept me too busy to think about everything that we'd lost with our Victory.

"If we were to split apart, he would survive, and I would collapse again. That's a humbling thing to know. I don't want to be alone. I'd like to start a family soon. Not too soon, obviously, we have issues to work out. But I don't want to have to spend the next decade looking for another Mr. Right and hoping he'll be ready to have kids because I am."

"Have you discussed children with Krum? It seems if he chafes at the demands made of him by a career, then he's hardly mature enough to bear the responsibility of taking care of a family."

She flicked a look at Snape; something in his voice had changed, but there was no clue to the undefined emotion. His face was a blank.

"Not recently, no. Things have been centered around jobs for the last year. But we had an understanding that it won't be much longer."

"What about your friends? Have you discussed this with Potter or Weasley?"

"No. I can't say I have."

"I think you should. They know you better than I do. They can probably give you better advice."

"And what is your advice?"

He sighed heavily, shifting sideways on the bench. He leaned back against a post, one gangly leg on the bench and the other to the side. "I'm afraid I don't have any."

"What would you do if you were me?" she urged, staring at the dragon-hide boot in front of her. His feet were slightly smaller than Viktor's and narrower. They looked elegant. Hermione wasn't aware until that moment that feet could be elegant.

"I'm not you, Granger." He fished in his pocket and surprised her when he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a Muggle lighter. "All I have is the experiences of my own life to draw on and sadly, they don't apply."

"How do you mean," she asked, waving a hand at the smoke drifting near her face.

He stared up at the sky for a long time without answering.

"I didn't marry for love," he said finally. Hermione felt a pang at his words. Her fragile happily-ever-after, anchored on Snape's own, slipped another degree.

"Go, on," she said quietly, casting another warming charm over both of them.

"Lenore and I don't have what the two of you have. We married for companionship based on mutual respect. Neither of us fared well when it came to… emotional attachment. I'm sure it's no secret to you that she was the sister of a Death Eater."

"No. I remember something about that in the papers when your engagement was announced."

"Yes, the papers. She lives in fear of them."

"Well, the press can be nasty, but Madam Snape is highly respected. I'm always seeing some tidbit or another about something wonderful she's done. You must be very proud."

"I am. She's a good woman."

His statement hung in the air for a moment. He'd said it with conviction, but it seemed to fall to the ground between them like a condemnation.

"But?"

He sighed and sat up. He dropped his cigarette to the ground and then vanished it with his hand in an uncharacteristic bit of showiness.

"Everything hangs on that one word, doesn't it? 'But.' She's a good woman. Dedicated, virtuous and morally upright, a virtual paragon."

"Don't forget beautiful. She's a very beautiful woman."

"Yes, she's that as well, but beauty is sustained from within, and there is nothing inside Lenore but her own pain." He darted a quick look at her, obviously uncomfortable with his own admission. She kept her face blank and nodded encouragingly. "Fate wasn't kind to Lenore in the war," he continued. "Her beauty attracted the admiration of many. Unfortunately, all but one were Death Eaters, and they killed him while she begged for his life. I wasn't there. Unlike Narcissa, she didn't have a strong man to protect her from the others. Her brother threw her to the wolves, so to speak.

"When we met again after the war, she seemed like such a strong creature. A survivor. The process you referred to—letting the other see your flaws—was unnecessary. We knew each other's secrets already. She wanted a respectable home, safe from the darker impulses that bring human misery. I thought—" He looked back at her suddenly and her breath caught at the depth of his sadness. "I thought if I was gentle enough. If I gave her time. If I gave her everything that she wanted, even a tower to hide in, she would—" His lips clamped shut and he turned away.

"You thought she would learn to love again." He nodded once but wouldn't meet her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with believing in that. It might still be possible."

He turned back to her with a furious look on his face. "It's _not _possible," he hissed. He violently shoved the sleeve up his left arm and revealed his Dark Mark. "Not when I bring this to her bed every night," he spat.

The anguish on his face urged her to do something to alleviate his pain. Anything. She reached out and took his arm by the wrist and pulled it closer, leaning down until she could clearly see the details of the faded mark in the moonlight. She'd only ever caught glimpses of it before. She remembered it being much darker the first time she had seen him defiantly roll up his sleeve. She smoothed her hand along it, as if gentling a beast. His skin was shockingly soft and warm. He shuddered and tried to pull away, but she held his wrist firmly.

"This doesn't define who you are, Severus. It shows what you survived and what you sacrificed. There must be a way you can show her that," she said, letting go. When she glanced back up at his face, the look in his eye raised the hair along her spine. He pulled his arm back and shook it until the sleeve fell down and covered it again. He broke his gaze and stared out at the pitch.

"I've tried, Granger. I've spent seven years trying. Now, I need to just try to accept things the way they are. She's a good woman who's been through hell. There are worse things in life than making sure she feels safe. She deserves more. I'd give her more, but she doesn't want it. She has all she wants and gives all she's capable of."

He pulled out a second cigarette and lit it, blowing a stream of smoke into the distance.

"You asked me for my advice. What can I say to you? That you should make yourself happy first? That you should hold onto someone who loves you with both hands? That you should stand by your man and do your duty? What the fuck do I know about anything? Do what you will. Make your own decisions. Just know that you're an asset to the school, and we're honored to have you here. That's the only thing I feel qualified to say." He stared into the distance. "Go to your husband, Professor. Your answers will come in time. Keep me posted on your decision."

Obviously dismissed, Hermione stood. She stared down at him, her heart choked with empathy.

"You deserve better, Headmaster. When I first heard you were engaged, I was so happy for you. I thought if any of us deserved to be happy it was you. I don't think it's right for you to just accept this fate. You should fight it. You deserve more."

He shook his head slowly without looking back at her.

"I didn't even deserve to live, Granger. I'll not demand more. It's not as bad as all that."

She wanted to argue. She wanted to shout at him for the utter defeat she heard in his voice. Instead, she just nodded as he waved her off and thought about his last statement. She left the stands and started back towards the school, thinking, _'Not as bad as all that, my arse. I'll bet it's worse.'_

* * *

"You're out late, Ninny. Whose cloak is that?" Viktor chuckled at the sight of her in the over-sized robes. "You look like a little child playing dress up."

She smiled at the way his laugh cleared the fog of sadness from her mind. She didn't want to think about unhappy marriages, she didn't want to think about how complex everything was. She just needed to smile.

"It's the Headmaster's. He wanted to stroll outside as we talked."

"Vot did the Headmaster vant?"

"He wanted to know which way we were leaning for next year."

Viktor's face closed down, and he shoved his stack of grading away.

"I suppose he tried to make you feel bad again? Maybe even more people gave up their lives so you could vork here this time?"

She hung the cloak on a peg by the door and walked over to her husband.

"Actually, he didn't try to influence me one way or another." She put her hands on his shoulders and he pulled her into his lap. "His exact words were, 'Do what you will' and 'make your own decision.'"

"Good. Ve vill make our own decision." He lifted a hand and stroked it down her cheek while looking at her with a hopeful expression. "Together, yes?"

"Yes," she said, kissing him on the forehead.

He scooped her up and stood.

"And together ve haff decided to go to bed and make love, yes? Yes."

Hermione laughed at the ridiculousness of his statement as he waltzed her across the room.

"Ninny, vy do you stink?"

"The Headmaster smokes Muggle cigarettes."

"Ah. In that case, ve haff made a new decision together. Ve vill shower first, then make love. This communication thing, it vorks good, yes?"

"I can see one or two flaws," she drawled, as he pushed open the bathroom door with her feet.

* * *

Snape hung his cloak on the peg by the door and wandlessly doused the lights in the sitting room as he passed into the bedroom. He glided past his snoring wife, stopping to toe off his boots and empty his pockets into the tray on the chest, before heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth and shower. He peeled off his clothes, tossing them into the hamper in the corner, and watched as they disappeared, off to the mysterious elfin places in the castle to be cleaned and returned to his wardrobe.

He reached for the tap to turn the water on, and his eye fell on his Dark Mark. He lifted his arm closer to his face and stared at it, as he had on thousands of occasions before. Only this occasion was dramatically different. He closed his eyes and brought his fingers up and stroked them down his arm as if to calm a wild beast. Instead, he awakened one. He was overwhelmed by sensation and memory. His mark had always been associated with pain and suffering, both physical and mental. For nearly thirty years it had brought him only shame. But then _she_ touched it. Tonight, it had brought him the most incredible sensual pleasure he'd experienced in years. His pride shouted that it was actually only pity on her part, but his neglected soul whispered the truth. When Granger had cradled his disfigured arm in her hands, it had felt so much like acceptance he'd almost wept.

He stepped under the hot water and tried to push it all from his mind, but the image of her leaning closer and stroking him enflamed his affection-starved spirit, and before he even realized it, his hand was wrapped around his cock and he was caressing himself with light, gentle touches. He reached for the tap to draw more cold water, but his hand never made it as a demanding caress stole a low moan from him. His body felt far more sensitive than usual. Even the slight sting of the water brought its own pleasurable torment. He knew that completion was inevitable now, and so he tried to think of something else to titillate. Something that didn't smack of wrongness. His mind chased across his wife's naked body, but like a journal read too often, it failed to satisfy. It didn't take long before his need became more selfish and the images changed back to a different woman entirely. A woman with wild brown hair and a passionate nature. A lioness who didn't hesitate to throw herself into her own childhood nightmares to defend those she cared for. A woman who hurled herself into life with her whole being and yet would push it all away for the man she loved. A woman with a delicate, heart-shaped mouth just the perfect size to slide his—

"_Fuuuck_," he moaned, feeling the delicious coiling in the base of his spine. He pumped himself furiously, knowing he was wrong. He knew this was not a healthy thing to do. He struggled in vain against his own nature until all that was left of his conscience was a tiny voice that was snuffed out when he slumped against the wall of his shower and grabbed his tightened sack and rolled it in his other hand. His brain was filled with images of Granger pleasuring him enthusiastically, joyfully, _willingly_.

He clenched his jaw tight against the cry that wanted to escape and came so hard he slid down the wall to his knees. He stayed there, kneeling on the tiled floor of the shower, shuddering at the overpowering release he'd found, until the tiny voice found its way back to life and grew in both size and volume.

He finished his shower, quickly scrubbing at his hair and body with rapidly increasing levels of disgust and self-loathing. When he finally scrambled out, he avoided looking at himself in the mirror as he dried himself with his wand. He walked to his chest of drawers with his eyes on the floor and quickly pulled his nightshirt over his head. Once he was covered, he looked up and saw his wife sleeping peacefully in their bed.

He raced back into the bathroom and was violently sick.

* * *

Yesh? Nar? Review!


	4. Chapter 4

**AN:** Thanks to **astopperindeath** for beta, **Dressagegrrrl **and **Hebe GB **for content, flow and Britpick. As well as lurve, new car mice, and eating too much Apple Betty.

And now..._boom_.

* * *

"Would you like more champagne, dear?" he asked, pitching his voice just enough to be heard over the orchestra.

"Thank you, Severus, I would." Lenore handed him her empty glass and turned back to her coterie of companions.

He slipped through the crowded ballroom with ease. People willingly or unconsciously moved out of his way before he reached them. When he made it to the bar, he deposited the two empty glasses and reached for two fresh ones but paused. A familiar, lilting giggle rose above the nearby chatter. He turned his head and saw Granger chatting with Potter and his wife. Her oaf of a husband was making flying gestures with his hands to a rapt Weasley.

As if she felt his gaze, her head turned. She smiled and waved, and he nodded a polite greeting before snatching a glass off the bar and heading back across the room toward his wife. He'd already exchanged pleasantries with Potter and had no need to get dragged into another painfully stilted conversation.

"Nothing for yourself?" Lenore asked when she turned to take the glass he offered.

"I think I shall pace myself. The temptation to blind myself with drink is too great when surrounded by such décor."

They both glanced around at the hideously tacky display of hearts and cherubs and the huge swags of garish pink cloth that draped across the ceiling of the ballroom, before sharing a commiserating glance.

"I understand completely," she replied. "Dolores snuck in last night after the decorating committee had left and changed everything. Vanessa's been in the women's lounge with a case of the vapors all evening, poor thing."

"If another damned cherub shoots me with an arrow I might join her," he replied.

Lenore smirked and pressed a hand against her lips to restrain her laugh. She patted his arm and then made a shooing motion.

"Go. I know you've found at least four places to hide. You've done the attentive husband thing; go find a sanctuary."

He looked at her and sighed. She always pushed him away, even when she was at her most pleasant.

"I shall, but I will find you again for at least one dance, Madame."

"Always with the threats," she quipped with a smile, leaving him unsure of how to respond. He bowed his head and turned away.

He slipped along the wall until he came to a door and stepped out into a Muggle alley in the heart of London. He could feel the wards that dampened unwanted curiosity from the street. The building had once been a men's club two hundred years ago, but the original owners had defaulted on a Gringotts loan, and it had somehow ended up as Ministry property. It had been used for official celebrations ever since.

Snape pulled out a cigarette and lit it, staring up at the strange-colored sky. He never understood how Muggles could get used to not seeing the stars anymore. It was a crisp, cloudless night, and all that could be seen was an orange glow.

He heard the door creak open behind him and turned, exhaling a stream of smoke.

"After the antics of the students these last two weeks, I would have thought you'd have balked at being dragged to another Valentine's Ball, Headmaster."

Granger stepped off the short curb and looked up at the sky before dismissing the view.

"Lenore is on the charitable foundation committee that sponsors the fundraiser. I assure you; it is duty that brings me here, not pleasure. What draws you away from the party, Granger? You seemed to be enjoying yourself."

She smiled sheepishly and walked a few paces away and looked out at the London street, safe behind the glamours.

"I saw you slip away and was jealous. Viktor and Ron now have Harry and Ginny wrapped up in their never-ending need to catalogue history's best Quidditch maneuvers. It was either sneak off after you or start spinning in circles and screaming." She pulled her cream-colored shawl up over her bare shoulders. "I really needed the air. Those awful perfumed arrows the cherubs keep shooting were making me gag."

He watched her as she strolled in a small circle, the hem of her toga-styled gown draped elegantly over her pearl-pink toenails. He turned away, sucking in a lungful of smoke and holding it, before blowing it out and tossing his cigarette. It vanished before it hit the ground. He turned and saw her standing with her hand stretched out and an impish smile on her face.

"I've been practicing that. I've always been pants at wandless magic, but you made it look so easy I wanted to try again."

He couldn't decide on an appropriate response, so he held his silence and hoped she would simply go back inside.

As if on cue, she shivered.

"Well, I think that's enough fresh air for now," she said wistfully. "I think the party is going to wind down soon. I only have to endure a few more hours of Quidditch talk at Harry's place and then I can sleep."

"You're not going back to the castle?" he inquired suddenly, discomfited at the tone of his voice.

"No, Viktor and I will be spending the night in London. I did tell Minerva—weeks ago—so our duties tomorrow are covered. We'll be back late tomorrow night. Minerva said it was fine."

She gave him a questioning look, but he wasn't sure what she was asking and suddenly feared what he would answer. He waved a hand towards the door.

"Enjoy your weekend, Professor."

She continued to stare at him as if he was a puzzle to be solved, and he scowled.

"I will. I hope you have a pleasant evening as well, Headmaster. I will see you Sunday morning."

He turned away without acknowledging her goodbye and ignored the sound of the door closing after her.

He stared up at the sickly orange glow and struggled to order his mind.

The door to the alley opened again and he spun around, pathetically pleased to hear his wife's voice.

"Severus, those hideous cherubs are completely out of hand in there. I was hoping I could induce you to end the problem once and for all."

He smiled unpleasantly.

"I would love to," he drawled.

"I thought you might," Lenore answered with her own rare smile, as she pushed the door wide. "A freshening charm wouldn't go amiss, dear," she said as he passed by.

"As you wish," he said as she closed the door after him.

* * *

Hermione ushered the students out the door and locked it with a flourish behind them. It was her last class of the day, and the end hadn't come soon enough. It hadn't been the class that had given her the dreadful headache, although the beautiful warm day calling to them had made them more restless than usual, it was a combination of not enough food, not enough sleep and not enough peace-of-mind.

She'd been up all night arguing with Viktor about leaving Hogwarts again. As spring had secured its hold on the world, Viktor's restlessness had increased exponentially. He was now adamant about leaving in June and unyielding in his plans to move back to Bulgaria. He had come as close as he could to saying he would leave her behind without using the actual words. She felt sick inside. Sick and alone. She'd been trying her damnedest not to break down and cry all day.

Viktor had always been her rock. He'd been the one that she'd anchored herself to after the war, when she'd been so lost. But since she'd returned to Hogwarts, it was as if she'd returned to her true self. She loved her husband, but it felt more and more like if she were to give in, she'd lose an important part of herself forever.

She hadn't been able to bring herself to speak to her friends about what was going on. Harry and Ron had accepted Viktor as one of the family, and Ginny was either off playing with the Harpies, or zealously glued to Harry's side on her down time. There never seemed to be an opportune time to bring up her unhappy marriage.

Only the Headmaster saw what was happening. She frequently felt him watching her, and when she caught him, he would always give her a questioning look that she could never reply to. Even today at breakfast, she'd felt his eyes on her as she tore apart her one slice of toast. At lunch, she'd looked up as she pushed her piece of potato in circles around her plate to find him staring at her with his penetrating gaze. She'd left the hall in a hurry to keep from coming apart.

She wanted to talk to him about it. She needed to unload her frustration to somebody, and he was a remarkably patient listener, but somehow it didn't seem appropriate anymore.

Ever since that moment in the alley at the Valentine's Day Ball, there seemed to be a distance between them. She couldn't put her finger on what exactly had happened, but the air had suddenly become thick with an undefined tension and awkwardness. After that night, he'd stopped inquiring after her decision, sending Minerva instead.

Minerva was supportive, but her feminist tendencies kept her from seeing Viktor's side of things and so she was hardly an unbiased ear. Hermione had started downplaying the truth so she didn't get her friend and mentor so worked up that she went after Viktor in a snit.

She didn't want to talk to Minerva any more. She wanted to talk to Snape. She missed his pragmatism, his dry humor, and his quiet strength. She worried about him as well. He seemed even more despondent to her, although tactful inquiries to Minerva and Pomona revealed she was the only one who noticed.

She scooped up her grading and dropped the pile onto her desk. As soon as she sat down, a house-elf popped up at her elbow, startling her. His ears drooped as he handed her a tray of food with a worried look plastered to his face.

"Gibby! It's okay. You just startled me."

She took the tray, loaded with soup and freshly made crusty loaf, butter, jam, a pot of tea, and a vial of headache remedy. She struggled not to burst into tears and alarm the silent elf even more than he already was.

He pointed to the tray with a question on his face.

"Yes, this is fine. Thank you. Thank you very much. Who—?"

The elf popped away before she finished her question. Not that she didn't already have her answer.

She placed the tray down on the desk and closed her eyes, enjoying the soothing smells.

A knock on the door startled her, and she jumped up with a smile and hurried across the room to answer it.

She opened the door to reveal Viktor standing there with a forlorn expression. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest as it tried to figure out which way to beat.

"Ninny. I don't vant to fight. I've been miserable all day, votching you be sad and not eat. I vas hoping, if you are not too mad at me, you vould valk with me to the kitchens so I can find you a bit of food. I know you von't last until dinner. You vill droop and I vill feel awful." She opened her mouth to reply but he raised a hand and she held her words. "Ve vill talk about it later. In a calm way. None of this all or nothing, black or vite. I don't vant to be without my Ninny. I love you." He held out his hand. "Come, let me take care of you."

She looked back over her shoulder at the tray of food on her desk. An insane impulse to slam the door in his face gripped her, but instead, she took a deep breath and said, "Alright." She slipped out the door and closed it quickly behind her.

Once in the kitchens, Viktor ordered up a few sandwiches and fussed over her until she swallowed the first bite. It tasted like ashes and stuck in her throat like glue. She reached for her water glass and saw Gibby, standing across the kitchen and staring at her in silent condemnation while holding the untouched tray he had brought her. It was in that moment that her brain understood what her heart had been trying to warn her about all along.

She finally burst into tears, but for a different reason entirely.

* * *

Headmaster Snape heard the fight long before he saw it. He hurried towards the commotion, breaking into a full run when he heard a scream. He came around the corner and collided with Granger who shoved him off and ran past him. Her eyes had been wild and her face had been a mask of pain. He watched her race into her office down the hall and slam the door. Several students started to yell at once around him.

"What the devil is going on here?" he bellowed. "You! Warrington! Explain!"

"Bracken and Hyde were fighting, sir. Professor Krum tried to stop it and got hit with a hex."

"What hex?"

The boy looked around him, unsure. A fourth-year named Sarafina Cohen stepped forward.

"Exulcero," she said. One of the boys being held by a seventh-year Gryffindor hissed at her. "What? Did you think I would lie for you, Daniel? You started a fight and hit a teacher!"

Snape was already walking backwards towards Granger's office. "You," He shouted at the seventh-year. "Make sure Bracken and Hyde make it to the Deputy Headmistress. Tell her to keep them in my office until I arrive. The rest of you, find somewhere else to be. Now."

He turned on his heel and raced down the hall towards Granger's office as students scattered in his wake.

He could hear her cries as he reached the door. He threw it open and quickly slammed it behind him and threw up a Silencing Charm. He locked and warded it as well when he saw the state she was in. Her teaching robes were on the floor by the door. Her blouse was torn to pieces and laying in separate areas of the room with her buttons scattered all over the floor. She still wore her long skirt, but the camisole she was wearing was torn and had flecks of blood from her clawing at herself. He raced across the room and grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from her body.

"Granger, stop! You'll do yourself a worse injury!"

Her eyes rolled around, and she didn't acknowledge him at all, just moaned and writhed in pain as she struggled to break his grip so she could tear at herself again. He backed her up against the wall and used his weight to pin her, pulling her arms over her head and grabbing both wrists in one hand. She wriggled against him, desperate for relief from the pain.

He pulled out his wand with his free hand and shouted, "_Finite Incantatum_! Gibby!"

"Oh, Gods! Thank you!" she wailed. She sagged against the wall immediately and burst into tears. He didn't let go of her yet. He knew there was more to come, he'd been hit with this hex before himself. The ungodly burning pain left behind an agonizing itch once the hex was cancelled.

The house-elf appeared immediately, his apple-shaped eyes widening at the sight in front of him.

"Go to the infirmary and get me the jar of Healing Salve. Return to me in person."

The elf blinked out with a pop just as Granger started to struggle again. He tightened his grip on her wrists.

"Don't, Granger. If I let you free you will only hurt yourself more."

"Now it itches! Gods, my stomach!" she cried, pushing herself against him and trying to twist her arms out of his grip.

"Not for much longer, just hang on," he replied in as calm a voice as he could muster.

She brought her chin down and tried to rub her neck and shoulders with it. A lock of hair slipped free of her tangled bun and slithered down her neck, she cried out as if it burned, and he snatched at it and tucked it behind her ear.

The elf returned, and Snape had him open the jar and set it on the shelf next to him before he dismissed him. He scooped out the salve and spread it thickly across her neck and shoulders, reaching for more salve as she hissed in relief.

"How extensive was the hex?" he asked.

"I was hit in the middle of my chest. It feels like it reaches from my neck to just below my navel and wraps halfway around to my back. Hurry! Faster!" She rubbed against him like a cat in heat, frantic for any friction that would bring relief. He worked as fast a possible, scooping up salve and smearing it along her sides, into her underarms and along her throat and collarbone, while she moaned loudly from the relief. "This is so humiliating," she sobbed. "Please hurry."

"It's only me, Granger. But if it's that embarrassing, I can Obliviate you if you wish," he said. "I am quite familiar with the degradations some curses cause."

She nodded frantically as his fingers scooped out more salve. He took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and stared fiercely at the wall as he shoved his hand underneath her top and smeared the salve across her stomach. More salve was applied between her breasts in quick, perfunctory strokes. He ground his jaw shut and stared at the same, chipped stone on the wall as he scooped up more and finally palmed a breast. He worked quickly but his body betrayed him, finally connecting the sounds she made with the sensation it registered, bypassing his brain's explanation completely. She couldn't not notice his body's reaction, he still had her pinned by his weight. Her breath exploded out of her and he felt her nipple harden under his touch. He quickly grabbed up more salve and hurried to finish the other breast. She moaned again, but this time it was a quieter sound, almost as if surprised. He felt her other nipple harden under his hand and desperately tried to ignore what was going on. His eyes bored into the wall, trying to force his mind away from the heaviness of her breast in his hand, the soft warmth of her skin, the quiet gasps. He didn't want to notice the way she twisted her hip against his rapidly hardening cock. She tightened her grip on his hand, and he looked up to see that instead of holding tightly to her wrists, his hand was now clenched in both of hers, fingers entwined. He stared at their braided fingers, confused by his traitorous hand. When had that happened? He heard her breathing shift as she pushed her breast into his other hand. Why was he still holding it? Why was he doing this? She could have applied the salve herself. What had come over him?

He slowly slid his eyes to the side and down until he could see her face, and what he saw caused his body to start to tremble. Her mouth was opened slightly; her lips glistened with moisture. Her face was flushed, and when she opened her eyes and looked at him, he heard a deep moan and knew it was his own. Her face was infused with wonder, as if she had just discovered an answer that had eluded her. He tried to let go of her hands, desperately wanted to pull his other hand away from her breast, but the effort caused a terrible pain to tear at his heart. He opened his mouth, trying to form an apology but words failed him.

When she shyly tilted her head up in invitation, it was his undoing. His mouth slowly settled down on hers, and he kissed her. His heart had stopped completely and terror curled in the pit of his stomach as he broke his word, his vow, his honor, school conduct laws, and long, desolate years of bitter isolation. He pulled his lips away the slightest bit, still feeling her sweet, warm breath, and waited for his doom with closed eyes.

She pulled her hands free of his slackened grip, and he startled as she placed them on his face, caressing her thumbs across his cheekbones. She kissed him back just as fearfully, just as timidly, and it was as if the world started to rotate again. Their lips began a gentle war, as they caressed each other in ever more daring feints and skirmishes, until they both reached that moment when they was no possible way to pretend this wasn't happening. In that one, trembling moment, passion ignited, and they both exploded with need.

A sound escaped her throat as she grabbed onto his neck and pulled him closer, as if to prevent his escape. Her soft lips pressed harder and she bit gently at his lower lip. Suddenly free to move, his arms snapped tight around her, and he pulled her close as he kissed her back with all the desperation a life without love had accumulated. She kissed him just as fiercely, opening her mouth and licking at his lips until he let her in. He indulged her for a while before his tongue ran over hers and swept into her mouth. He felt nearly faint from the rush of emotions that tore through him. She moaned again, and he felt his heart stutter at the sound. He kissed her as if his life would end if he stopped. He needed this; it was as if her kisses gave him strength, hope. She pressed herself against him, her hands pulling at his shoulders as if she could pull him into her very soul, and gods help him, that's exactly where he wanted to be. He felt her delicate hands start to dance along the clasps of his robes, and he tore himself away from her mouth so he could see her eyes.

"Do you really want this?" he asked; his voice was rough and desperate-sounding.

"Oh, yes," she said, her own voice husky with desire. "I want this." She undid the last clasp, and he pulled his robes off and flung them to the floor behind him as she started to unbutton his shirt. He tore at his cuffs, leaning in and kissing her almost violently as he did so. His mind was a fog of need and want and lust and an unfamiliar craving he didn't stop to question.

She pulled his shirt open and ran her soft hands through the hair on his chest with a cry of delight. He pulled her close again and kissed her savagely as he pivoted them around until his back was against the wall and slid down, dragging her with him until he was on his knees, sitting on his heels with her astride his lap. She ground herself against him, and he pushed up to meet her as his hands slid up the silken skin of her back. She stopped to help him pull off her top, and he hissed at the sight of her raw, abraded flesh. She kissed him hard, her lips landing half on, half off of his open mouth.

"I'm fine; it doesn't hurt now," she said, without pulling away. "Touch them. Please. I want you to touch them again." He pulled away from her mouth and looked down, sliding his hands across her full breasts. Her head dropped back on her neck and she moaned in reaction. He thrilled at the sound, feeling a pure, distilled joy at her responsiveness. She _wanted _him! He thumbed a nipple and felt his rusty smile stretch his face when she cried out. He traced a long silvered scar that started at her collarbone and ran across her sternum down to the last rib on the other side.

"What did this?" he whispered.

"Dolohov's Slicing Hex," she answered quietly. He stiffened, and her eyes snapped open. "No! Don't think about it! Don't think!" She looked frantic as she begged softly, "Please."

His answer was to reach up onto the shelf and grab his wand and spell away the rest of her clothes. They reappeared in a neat pile on her desk. He slid his hands down her back and along her arse until he grabbed her with both hands under her thighs and started to lift her up. She came up onto her knees, but he just looked intently into her eyes and kept pushing her. She smiled and stood up, and he leaned forward and buried his face between her legs with a hoarse groan.

Gods, she was so wet. He reveled in her reactions to him as she spread her legs just a little farther and grabbed onto the back of his head with one hand and braced herself against the wall with the other.

He took his time pleasuring her. Listening intently to her cries and learning from the pressure of her hand on his head. He worshipped her, trying to offer her back more for the marvel that she'd given him. He knew she was close when she clutched a fistful of his hair painfully. He danced his tongue back and forth against her nub, faster and faster, until he was whipping his head side to side. Her legs began a violent shake, and he needed both hands to hold her up. Her rising wail almost made him come in his trousers, so beautiful did it sound to him. As he felt her start to shiver more, he shifted an arm around her hips and slid two fingers inside, just in time for her to shriek and pulse around them while he laved her with his tongue, slowing down until the last flicks of his tongue were an exercise in languid decadence.

When the last of her shudders subsided, he let her collapse back down on him. She gifted him with a glorious smile and then leaned forward and kissed him, her tongue tangling with his in a deep, slow kiss. She lifted up and started to fumble with the placket of his trousers, and he lifted his hips and helped her tug them down. She gave him an amused smirk when she realized he didn't bother with pants. He smirked back but gasped when her soft hand wrapped around him and cut off all thoughts but one.

"No more foreplay," he rasped out.

She nodded and lifted up until she had herself positioned and then slid down the full length of his cock. It was so glorious, he wanted to weep. He held her still while he regained control. She gave him a look drugged with feminine power and secrets, and he almost succumbed anyway. He pulled her face back down and kissed her, thrusting up into her slowly and shuddering at the feel of her heat. She picked up the pace, and he broke away from her mouth to grab onto her hips and help set the rhythm. Her hands reached out and pulled the clasp from his hair, and she slid her fingers into it as she rode him. The secret smile dropped away from her face as her mouth fell open. She licked her lips before biting them. He felt her moisture run down his sack and let out a guttural sound that frightened him with its feralness.

He knew he wouldn't last much longer. He rose up off his ankles, holding her tight against him and cast a Cushioning Charm on the floor before laying her down on his robes. They didn't quite make it without coming apart, but she looked at him with utter delight as he loomed over her and sank deep into her body again.

Gods, she was beautiful. She was everything he'd ever wanted and a few things he hadn't even known he needed. The way she opened herself to him, welcomed him, _wanted_ him. He gloried in the perfection of the moment as he drove into her in rapidly escalating ecstasy, already mourning the end that was coming.

"Oh, fuck! I'm so close," he cried out.

"Let go," she cried back.

"I don't want to," he sobbed. "I don't want to…"

She moaned, as he felt her pulse and flutter around him, his eyes widened, and he almost couldn't breathe from the intensity of the pleasure trying to shatter his consciousness. When he finally felt himself slide over the edge, he screamed from the beauty of his world in this singular moment.

He was pretty sure he'd blacked out and so was rather pleased when he realized he was still holding his own weight and hadn't crushed her as she bathed his face in soft little kisses. He kissed her back tenderly, fighting down the sudden urge to tell her how much he loved her. He didn't want to compound their magnificent folly by throwing his heart at her feet and begging her to make it more than it was. He kissed her one more time and then pushed back off her onto his knees and pulled up his trousers, flicking the top button closed before reaching down and wrapping her in his robes. He lifted her until she was cradled in his lap while he sat against the wall with his knees up to hold her closer.

She rested her head against his shoulder and stroked a hand through the hairs on his chest, tracing his own silvered scars underneath.

She sighed. "What have we done?" she asked sadly. "I've never been so selfish in my life. What happens now?"

"I don't know," he replied. He held her close and rubbed his cheek against the top of her hair. "How long do you think we have before our guilt ruins this?"

"It's already starting," she replied. "When we leave this room, the bubble will pop."

He nodded. "I don't think it _should_ leave this room," he said. "We're not the sort of people who can do this, Hermione."

"I never want to leave this room," she said with irrational desperation, wrapping her arms around his torso and holding him tight.

"Do you think you could live a life of lies?" he asked gently.

She took a long time before she replied.

"No." She pushed back and looked up at him, one small hand caressed the side of his face. "Can we wait? Untangle ourselves from the messes we call marriages, and then take up where we left off?"

He caught her hand and kissed the palm. "Have you stopped loving your husband that quickly?"

Her face clouded over and she shook her head. "No. But I think I could love you so much more," she said.

His arms convulsed around her. "_Don't!_" he cried in a ragged voice. He pressed his face against her hair and said, "Don't do this to me. I have lived my whole life without love, Hermione. Don't give it to me now when I cannot keep it! I have a duty. I have responsibilities. I cannot throw them away because I've suddenly discovered the hidden joys of selfishness."

She pushed back and grabbed his face between her hands. "You deserve to be loved! There must be a way we can make this work. We can be discreet. No one needs to ever know. You won't have to sacrifice anything. You can just come to me when it's convenient."

He looked at her sadly, and she blushed, obviously not believing her own words. He saw her confusion and understood her nature was at war with itself, as was his.

"I don't think we could hide this, Granger. It's so bright it hurts to look at. We would be caught and disgraced. We would both lose our jobs. We would hurt the people we care about." He pulled her tight against his chest and kissed the top of her head. "And in the end, we would hate each other for the mess we'd made." He leaned his head back against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. "For whatever reasons, I'm drawn to you. I've spent months denying what I was feeling—I didn't even _understand_ what I was feeling—and I've never experienced anything as powerful as what we just shared. But I am a married man, Granger. And you are a married woman. We've both been trapped in our sad little lives and saw escape in the other's eyes. This thing between us. It's not new. We aren't unique. All we've really done is throw our vows away in a glorious inferno of self-destruction. The world has watched this same scene play out over and over. There's never a happily-ever-after."

She slumped in his arms. "You're going to Obliviate me after all, aren't you?" she whispered.

"It would be for the best. You are not done with being Madame Krum, and Lenore is not finished with being Madame Snape. I think it should be done soon. Someone is bound to come pounding on that door. Your husband must be on his way back with the students from Hogsmeade, and I still have two students waiting in my office to be disciplined."

"And what about you? If you Obliviate me, who will erase this memory from you?"

"You will," he assured her as he opened his arms and urged her away. "I will tell you what must be done. It will work. You said yourself you were humiliated by the hex. Write yourself a note explaining why you have a gap in your memory. I'll do the same for myself."

"Severus, Obliviates don't erase emotions. Our feelings will still be there."

"Not if we remove this memory first. Then we only have to erase the _knowledge_ of the memory." She looked at him, and his heart twisted painfully in his chest at all the hurt and sadness in her face. It had to be this way. Such an open face could never hide this lie well.

They got up off the floor and went about their preparations. After a few cleansing charms, he helped mend her torn clothing, while she wrote herself a note. He scribbled down hasty directions of his own and then picked up two vials from a shelf and scoured them quickly with a spell.

"Are you sure this is the right thing?" she asked through trembling lips.

"I think it is the least wrong thing," he answered.

Silent tears ran down her face as she closed her eyes and pulled the memory from her mind. He had to steady her wand and help deposit the silver thread into the vial as she looked at it with horror.

"What have I done?" she whispered.

"Shhh," he crooned. "In a moment, the shame will be gone."

"Not the shame," she cried softly. "The loss. I've lost you. I only feel an echo."

"It's for the best," he answered. "Once we Obliviate the echoes, we won't remember a thing." He pulled a memory thread from his own mind and placed it in the second vial.

"What happens to the memories?"

"I've written instructions for myself to destroy them immediately in the nearest fire."

She straightened her shoulders and gripped her note to herself.

"Good bye, Hermione," he said, feeling his heart shatter. He raised his wand and aimed it at her head as she closed her eyes and clenched her fists.

* * *

Headmaster Snape stormed into his office to find two fourth-year boys squirming in their seats under the withering stare of Minerva and all the portraits.

"Pack your things. You will both be escorted to the train in one hour," he intoned. Minerva shot him a startled look.

"Headmaster, if you look at the facts, I think you will find—"

"I'm not interested in facts, excuses or mitigating circumstances. I want these miscreants gone. Notify their parents, and get them out of here."

The boys started to plead and beg and Minerva reached out to stop him as he made his way over to the tapestry leading to his personal quarters.

"Headmaster, I think you should reconsider. Mr. Bracken—"

"_No! _Their thoughtlessness nearly ruined someone's life! They don't understand what they've done! They cannot know—!" He looked wildly around his office before his eyes settled on the two terrified students. "Get them out of my school!" he bellowed, pointing to the wall. "Before I throw them from that bloody window!"

He spun around and fled to his rooms, leaving three shocked faces behind.

Sitting alone in front of the fire, sipping his third glass of Firewhisky, his mind replayed the end. He grimaced in pain at the memory of how her face had clouded with confusion before she'd read her own note. The way she'd colored with embarrassment at what she perceived she had gone through. How she'd pulled away from him in shame. He'd shoved his own note into his pocket quickly and assured her there was nothing so terrible, that he'd thought she'd overreacted in asking to be Obliviated, but had acceded to her wishes. He'd handed her the jar of healing salve, assuring her that he had been minimal assistance. She'd thanked him, squirming with humiliation, and he'd bid her good day and left her there before he gagged.

He stared at the two vials of memories on the side table. The smaller vial contained the memory of when he'd first learned to tie his shoes. He could no longer remember what they'd looked like, what color the laces had been, or who else had been there at the time. He only remembered that he'd learned, and then he'd decided to forget.

The second vial contained all her thoughts, emotions and sensations as they'd crashed together like waves tossed about in a storm. He knew he was wicked—nothing good could come from this needless self-torture—but he wasn't capable of erasing even the smallest moment with her from his mind. He opened the larger vial and pulled out the silvery thread with his wand, studying the way it twisted and turned in the slightest breeze. He cursed his weakness and shifted to drop the memory into the fire, but at the last moment he turned his wrist and shoved her memory into his own head.

His body trembled violently as it tried to assimilate this foreign brainwave; blood pounded, and his eyesight dimmed. His nose began to bleed as he frantically called upon his training and forced his mind to his will. With a last, searing stab of pain, it cleared. He opened his eyes wide as his body was flooded by her emotions and he understood what she'd done.

She'd pulled more than one memory from her mind. He'd been sure she'd only sought some comfort from her own loneliness in a moment of vulnerable madness. He'd been so certain, despite her words, that she was just confused, trying to justify what they had done by convincing herself it was more. He'd been wrong. Included amongst her thoughts and memories of the sex they'd had, was a moment, sitting at a table in the kitchens the day before with her husband, when the truth had hit her, and the long sleepless night that followed. She'd already realized that she loved him. Hurt more by his pragmatic rejection, than from their sin, she'd exorcized him like a demon from her mind. By stealing her private thoughts, he'd damned himself to hell.

"What have I done?" he wailed, scooping up the two vials and flinging them into the fire. Finding no satisfaction in the sound of breaking glass. He dropped his head into his hands and sobbed.

* * *

When Lenore Snape came home hours later, she found her husband had drunk himself into oblivion in front of the fire. His breath was flammable, and his eyes were swollen; his face was lined with the salty tracks of dried tears and what looked like a minor nose bleed. She clucked in disgust at such a display, but dutifully levitated him out of his chair and put him to bed. She carefully stripped him out of his clothes and slid him between the soft sheets gently. She stared down at him and stroked a hand across his brow, snatching it back quickly, lest he wake. In the seven years they'd been married, this was only the second time he'd drunk himself into a stupor. She wondered at what could have cause the normally stoic man to break like this, but knew she would never ask. Lenore only feared one person's torments more than her own, and that was her husband's.

She flicked out the candles with her wand and headed back into the sitting room to finish a bit of correspondence. She vowed to give him what-for in the morning. There would be no more of that sort of thing in this house. It was far too vulgar.

* * *

I know you're out there. You. The one who just lurks and thinks your review isn't worthy. It is, trust me. C'mon. You know you want to...


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thanks to my team, you know what you did, and you know I know that you know how much I appreciate it. You know?

A special thanks to all the first time reviewers and lurkers that I couldn't reply to directly. I am really touched that my angsty little drama as pleased you all.

* * *

Headmaster Snape looked up from his paper at his wife's small exclamation of surprise. He looked across the small dining table to where she was reading her morning mail.

"Is something amiss?" he asked with polite concern.

"Nothing dreadful. Vanessa's just gone and done something utterly foolish."

"What's she done this time?" he asked, returning his interest back to the paper.

"She's gone and got herself pregnant again. Foolish woman. She already has a son, why would anyone want more than one? Pregnancy does such terrible things to a woman's figure. She must have forgotten to use her charms. I cannot believe it was intentional."

He held the paper up as all the blood drained from his face. When his hands started to shake, he quickly folded it and stood up.

"Off so soon?" she asked. "Isn't it a bit early?"

"I must see to some paperwork."

"On a Saturday? Well, if you must. Off you go then. Don't forget we have dinner with the Malfoys tonight."

He stared at her and blinked several times. "I'll finish up early and meet you back here at four, then, shall I?"

She looked up at him over the top of the letter she held. "Are you alright, Severus? You look unwell."

"I'm fine. Perhaps the eggs were a bit off. I might just go get some air before I head to the hall." With a last, polite nod, he fled the room.

He paced his office floor, fending off Dumbledore's concern until he couldn't take it any longer and left his office.

He walked towards the Great Hall in a daze. His mind filled with self-recriminations. How could he have been so stupid? How could they have been so careless?

The point was moot; everything about that afternoon had been stupid and careless. Stupid and careless and tormentingly beautiful. He closed his eyes and shook his head violently to clear the cascade of images that tried to flood his mind.

He'd been meticulous in his avoidance of her since. Nothing in his actions or deeds could give away the truth. Living a lie was an old game for him, and he took to it again with an ease that almost seemed like sentimentality.

He'd watched with sadness as she'd struggled to understand his absolute withdrawal. Watched, as she labored to repair her damaged marriage in isolation. He did nothing. Offered no advice, sent no more proxies. He just watched, and when she leaned toward him for the least bit of understanding, he turned away.

She'd found her strength. He could see it in the set of her shoulders. She'd made some sort of decision. Based on the pleased disposition of her Neanderthal husband, he knew what had been decided. She was leaving at the end of term next month. She was leaving _him_.

Now he was in a near panic that she might be unknowingly taking a chunk of his own soul with her.

What should he do? If she was pregnant with his child, how could he tell her? She had no memory of anything more than a strange friendship that was stilted at best. The scandal could ruin lives, especially a child's, born under such a cloud. He needed to know for sure. How the hell could he find out? And if he did find out she was pregnant, how would he know who the father was? It would be the height of folly to expose her to the truth in his panic, only to find that it was her husband's child. Even if it was his, he and Krum bore enough characteristics in common that his child could easily be passed off as the duck-footed imbecile's. Would he really be able to let another man raise a child of his like a cuckoo's egg?

The answer hit him in the gut. No. Never. If Granger was carrying his child, he would move heaven and earth to claim it.

He realized he was standing still at the doors of the Great Hal with his fists clenched. Several students had stopped and were staring at him. He snarled at them and stormed passed, taking small satisfaction in the way they scattered like dry leaves before him.

He sat down at the table with a minimum of conversation and set himself to subtly watching how much food Granger piled on her plate.

* * *

Hermione entered the Library and headed toward the History of Magic stacks to research a question on the OWL exam that she thought might actually be wrong. She remembered arguing about it when she'd got that question wrong as a student and refused to allow another student to go through the same frustration.

She passed the Charms section and spotted the Headmaster with his nose buried in a book. She came to a stop and just watched him.

His withdrawal over the last weeks still gave her a dreadful ache, like she'd lost a best friend. They hadn't been that close, but she'd cherished his kindness all the more for its rarity. She was deeply upset that he might have been offended by her behavior when she'd been hexed. Knowing she'd been so embarrassed that she preferred to be Obliviated rather than remember, left her open to imagining all manner of horrible things she could have done. But he hadn't seemed overly angry or disgusted; he'd just faded back away from her.

He no longer watched over her. She never looked up and met his penetrating gaze anymore. It was as if he was a phantasm. He might be in the same room with her at a staff meeting, but it seemed like he wasn't really there at all. She felt as if she could reach out and pass her fingers right through him.

She couldn't quite get a handle on why it bothered her so much, but she knew it hurt her enough that it had colored her decision to leave. Her feelings for the taciturn man were sliding into dangerous waters. It wasn't safe for her to stay. She just hadn't worked up the nerve to tell him yet. Viktor volunteered daily, but for some reason she felt it had to come from her.

Her eyes finally registered the title of the book he was reading so intently, and she beamed at him. She finally felt she had an opening for a normal conversation.

She walked down the aisle towards him.

"So, do you want to be called Daddy, Da, Father or just stick to Sir?" she asked with a smile. Her smile faltered as his head snapped up and he grew shockingly pale.

"What did you say?" he asked in a breathless voice.

Feeling like a fool, she bit her lip and pointed. "The book you're reading. Is Madame Snape expecting?"

He stared at her and blinked several times, alarming her.

"No. That is, I'm not sure. I was researching ways to find out." He squared his shoulders, and his eyes took on an odd gleam.

She raised herself onto her toes and looked at the page he had open. "Oh, that's a good spell to use," she said.

"You are familiar with it?"

"Yes, it's created for the father to cast. A woman can get odd results casting a Pregnancy Charm on herself in the early days, and it's not always convenient to find a nurse or Healer. Viktor and I have had one or two close calls over the years, and that's the one he uses. Would you like me to show you the wand movements?"

"I would be grateful," he said with stiff politeness. He closed the book and set it on the shelf.

She helped him practice the movements and the incantation a few times and he picked it up quickly.

"May I cast it on you?" he asked, darting his eyes around them and then flicking them back to her own. "For practice?"

"Sure. It will automatically give you a negative, unless you managed to get me pregnant and it slipped my mind," she quipped.

He flushed bright red and the issue of the Obliviate suddenly loomed up large. She felt her own blush spread to the roots of her hair.

"Oh, Circe's Circlet," she swore, scrubbing at her face. She squared her shoulders and lifted up her chin. "Sir, I still worry that I made a spectacle of myself that day I caught the hex. I can't seem to let go of the idea that I might have done something terrible, and that you're not telling me. I have to know. Is that why you don't talk to me anymore? Was my behavior truly that outrageous?"

His eyes softened and he shook his head slowly. "No," he said solemnly. "You didn't do anything to offend me, Granger. My responsibilities have kept me preoccupied."

She smiled at him, relieved. She felt as if a large weight had shifted off her shoulders. "Truly?" she asked.

He gave her another strange look and then raised an eyebrow and said, "Why would I lie to you?"

"That's a good point." She gave him a weak smile, hoping to diffuse the strange effect of his gaze. "Right then, ready to try the charm?" She stepped back and spread her arms a bit.

His face took on an intensity that made her breath catch as he lifted his wand.

The oddest thing happened when he cast the charm.

As the expected negative rune glowed in the air in front her belly, his face froze into an expressionless mask. Then the mask cracked. It started at the line between his brows and slowly seeped across his face until she was looking at a naked display of utter desolation. He clutched at his chest and turned and slammed his back against the shelves, gulping air.

She didn't have a clue what to make of his reaction, but she felt his pain deep in her own soul. She grabbed his hand and placed her other on his shoulder in comfort. His own hand snapped shut around hers, and he turned his head and looked at her with such sadness that tears sprang into her own eyes.

"What is it?" she pleaded.

He just shook his head. "I've just realized I've been lying to myself," he said in a harsh rasp. He shook himself and let go of her hand. He ran a hand across his scalp. "Lenore doesn't really want children," he said quietly.

"I'm so sorry," she said, squeezing his shoulder as if she could pull his pain out. "But you mustn't give up! Fate has a strange way of making things happen. You're still young and anything could happen. If you want a child enough, a child will come to you. It might not be your own flesh and blood—with some people, it might even arrive on four legs and be covered in fur. Don't despair. Not yet."

He chuckled, but it came out like a slow wheeze.

"I'm laying it on a bit thick, aren't I?" she asked with a wince.

"Ever the Gryffindor, Granger." He shocked her by lifting his hand and wiping away her tears with his thumb. "You're leaving us, aren't you?" he said sadly.

"Yes, sir," she replied through her tears, refusing to contemplate the feelings his touch stirred up. It was just more proof that she had to get away from this place, before she did something incredibly stupid. "I'm grateful for everything you've done for me. Please believe that. I would have liked to stay, but I really want to make it work with Viktor. I'm so sorry."

"Don't be," he said gently. "I think it's for the best. It shows an admirable strength on your part, Granger."

He dropped his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently before pushing away from the shelf.

"Good luck, Hermione. I hope you find everything you're looking for in the near future."

He left her staring at his retreating back until he was long gone and her silent tears soaked the collar of her robes.

* * *

Headmaster Snape watched from a window on the fourth-floor as the Krums packed their trunks onto the Thestral carriage. He observed the tearful farewells amongst his staff, their voices drowned out by the mournful tune caused by the wind stirring the thistles. He watched as the woman he loved darted quick glances around, searching for one more person to come say farewell. She would be disappointed, but she would be able to live with it. She glanced up suddenly towards the window he stood at, but he backed away into the shadows until her shoulders drooped, and she climbed into the carriage with her lout of a husband.

As the carriage pulled away, he stepped closer to the window and placed his hand against the glass. He was caught with his guard down as her curly head popped out of the carriage. She lifted her face and reached out a hand towards him. She stayed that way until the carriage turned and she was lost to sight.

He turned away from the window and walked along the echoing emptiness of the school towards his office. He'd always cherished this first day of summer without students. The peace and quiet had always felt rejuvenating to him before.

Now it felt like he'd been shut inside his tomb still breathing.

* * *

Snape stood in the middle of the sitting room holding the card his wife had given him for their anniversary while she arranged the roses he had given her in a vase on the coffee table. His new cravat was on the table next to a set of exquisite pearl earrings.

"No," he said.

"No? What do you mean, 'no'?" she said incredulously over her shoulder.

"I mean _no_. I've waited long enough."

"You can't just order it, Severus." She straightened up and turned to him with her hands on her hips. "This is a major decision, not something to just rush into," she said in her practiced reasonable voice.

"Eight years could hardly be called rushing. You promised me an heir when we agreed to get married. I think I have been more than patient. I refuse to put it off for another year." He met her shocked look with calm, determined eyes. "I want a child, Lenore. I've always wanted one. This is hardly news. How long did you think I would be willing to wait?"

"Until I was ready!" she cried, her voice suddenly full of fear and sadness.

He stepped over to her and put his hands on her shoulder, ignoring the way she flinched under his touch. "Will you ever be ready, Lenore? I can wait if there's a hope, but hope fades without anything to nurture it."

She stepped back, away from him.

"I don't see what the sudden interest is. Why do you even want a child? To carry on the illustrious name of Snape? Hardly. So you can look at a smaller version of yourself and admire your genes? Spare me. You don't know the first thing about children."

"You promised me a child!" he shouted, his temper flaring at her casual insults.

"And I bloody well changed my mind, didn't I?" she yelled back in a coarser voice not heard in years. "Unless you come up with a better reason than 'it's about time,' you and your baby can kiss me arse!"

"I need someone to love!" he shouted, his voice cracking. His anniversary card was a crumpled lump in the palm of his hand. "Do you really expect me to go my entire life without anyone caring about me at all?"

"And you expect a child will? You pathetic fool. I know you, Severus. You will grind a child down with your expectations until their only recourse is to hate you to survive!"

"I am _not_ your father!" he bellowed.

"I wasn't talking about my father, I was talking about _yours_! Why the hell would you be any different than him?"

"Because I'd fucking _care_!"

"You think he _planned_ to make you hate him? You think that was his intention when he dreamed about what it would be like to have a child? Don't be naive!"

Snape stilled as he let her words settle over him. He walked over to the fire and tossed his card into the flames and contemplated his feelings as he watched it singe and straighten out before it blackened and curled up even more. When it was nothing more than a lump of ash, he turned and faced his wife.

"You have three months to think about it. If at the end of that time you're still sure you do not want a child, then I will start divorce proceedings."

She paled. "Severus, there's no need to be dramatic. Surely we can talk this through."

"Does the prospect bother you so much? I would call that a hopeful sign. I have given you everything you ever wanted, Lenore. I have provided for your every need. You have denied me the things that I wanted for eight years. I've come to terms with the fact that you will never love me. I kept my love for you hidden so it couldn't hurt you, until it withered and died. Now you expect me to give up the only other thing that matters to me? I will not. If I cannot have a child with you, I will find someone else. I have as much right to be happy as any other person."

He walked toward the door leading to his office.

"Where are you going? We have dinner at the Bainbridge's!"

"I've lost my appetite. I'm sure you'll be able to make my excuses. You have a flair for it."

"Severus! Don't leave me!"

He stopped short and turned back to see her standing there with her hands clasped across her mouth and a shocked expression. He grimaced in pain and hung his head.

* * *

The first staff meeting of the year was winding to a close. So far, the term had started with the usual amount of chaos, and all things considered, it was a marked improvement on last year. His new staff seemed to be adjusting to routines nicely, and no one was inundating him with demands to liberate bored housewives.

"Minerva, how are the Zimmings twins settling in?"

"Rather well, they've stopped sleeping in the same bed and they don't eat as if it's always their last meal anymore. Their grades are more than acceptable. They are both rather bright."

"Excellent news, my wife will be pleased to hear it. She has a special fondness for those girls. Are there any more requisitions or questions that need to be dealt with before we end?" he asked, while he scribbled some notes down in his journal.

"I'm not sure what the protocols are yet, but I do think the practice dummies in the DADA classroom are on their last legs, so-to-speak. How would I go about ordering new ones? Is that my responsibility? Do I buy my own?"

Snape looked over at Harry Potter, smirking at how much of a prat he looked in his teaching robes. Ginevra Potter had taken over as the History of Magic professor as well. She'd retired from professional sports at the end of the last season, and Granger had recommended the pair at the last staff meeting before she'd departed.

"I'll order them now," he replied. "I'll send you the proper form to fill out after dinner so we can have an official record of the request. You should have them in a week."

"Thanks, Sna—erm, Headmaster."

Snape narrowed his eyes at the near slip and was pleased at how Potter started to twitch and fidget in his seat. Toying with him looked to be an enjoyable way to pass the tedium of future staff meetings. Minerva shot him a scolding look but her eyes were full of mirth.

"This meeting is adjourned," he intoned. Chairs scraped and chatter broke out as he jotted down his last notes. The staff clustered into groups as they waited to exit the staffroom. The conversation nearest to him drew his attention and he slapped his journal closed and stood.

"Would you mind repeating that past part, Professor?" he asked Mrs. Potter.

"I was just telling Minerva that I received and owl from Hermione. It seems that Viktor has decided to take up coaching Quidditch in Armenia. She'd barely finished unpacking in Bulgaria and now they're off again. She almost sounded upset. I hope things are alright between them."

Snape graced her with a ferocious scowl.

"Your concern for your friend comes a little late," he spat. He spun away from her and pushed his way through to the door.

"He's right, you know," Minerva chided behind him. "Hermione was quite unhappy last year. I'm surprised you didn't notice. That husband of her just drags her from one end of the globe to the other with no mind for a woman's need to be her own person. I had several talks with her myself and let me tell you—"

The door to the staffroom banged shut behind him and cut off the rest of her words. He stormed towards his office in a thunderous mood. She was supposed to be happy. If they weren't allowed to find happiness together, at least one of them should have been happy apart. It sure as fuck wasn't him.

Once he gained his office, he dropped his journal and papers on his desk, asked Albus to remind him to order Potter's supplies later, and slipped behind the tapestry to his quarters.

Making sure Lenore was still out first, he went into the bedroom and opened the top drawer on his chest of drawers and pulled out a box. He sliced his thumb with his wand and pressed the bloody finger to the top of the box before he tapped it with his wand and the latch clicked open. He lifted the lid and drew out a hand-blown, crystal vial with a memory spiraling endlessly inside. Lifting the stopper, he pulled the silver thread out with his wand and placed it inside his head.

He gasped at the inevitable rush of sensation that always came with it. He never got used to it. The way her mind and body had reacted to him always made his heart stop. Her memories of how deeply she'd been in love with him always made it start again in a pounding rush. Like a Muggle junkie with a fix, he slid to the floor, awash in sensation and relief at finally having his need met. As always, he started to cry.

He'd been a fool. He should have known she would never have broken her vows unless she'd already fallen in love. Her memory of the moment when she realized she loved him, sitting at the table in the kitchen with her husband, never failed to break his heart over and over. He should have fought to keep her. He should have left his harridan of a wife to her charities and grabbed Granger and run. Her idiot husband was no match for him. Sure he was a capable Defense Against Dark Arts teacher, but Severus was a master of the Dark Arts themselves. It would have been like stomping a kitten. Hell, Potter could have dragged Krum in circles around the castle by sixth-year, with one arm broken.

Idiot woman. Why didn't she leave him? There were so many men out there that would be honored to have what she had to offer. She deserved to be worshiped, not dragged around the globe like an accessory.

Fucking Gryffindors and their fucking martyrdom.

He entertained the fantasy of throwing this life away and running off to Armenia and saving her. But he knew in his soul there would be no mad dash to reclaim her love. He'd missed his chance. If she didn't eventually free herself, someone else would free her. It would never be him. He was too broken. Instead, he lifted his wand and pulled the memory from his mind and dropped it back into the bottle. He stood and straightened the folds of his brown robes, before resetting the Dark Ward on the box and shoving it back in amongst his socks.

He went into the bathroom and splashed water on his face, staring hard at the sad man with the homely face in the mirror, wondering, as he had for over forty years, how much longer he could go on like this.

He heard the Floo activate and wandered into the sitting room to welcome his wife home. He found her standing in front of the mantle holding a small box and looking nervous and uncertain.

"Is everything alright?" he asked with concern.

She didn't answer; she just thrust the box at him as if it burned her. He took it and gave her a worried glance before he opened it carefully.

Inside, nestled in gold tissue paper, was a tiny pair of baby shoes.

Since they hadn't been intimate in months, this was a promise, not an announcement. He had difficulty swallowing around the thick lump in his throat.

"Are you sure?" he asked in a whisper.

"No," she replied with a nervous laugh. "But you do have a right to be happy."

He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Thank you, Lenore."

* * *

o.O

Review. It will make you feel better...


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** A big thank you to my team for their help, and a huge thank you to the reviewers I couldn't contact personally. I am really overwhelmed and humbled by the response from all of you.

Virtual Soy Chai Lattes for everyone!

* * *

Hermione sat and stared out the window at the bleak landscape and watched the goat stomp through the little garden she had thought was a good idea back when she'd still been able to scrape together a modicum of 'give a damn.' The goat belonged to a neighboring farm and had become her nemesis, merrily destroying everything she tried to do on the plot. She'd given up.

The Armenian Ministry were much stricter about where and how their magical community lived. They were far more paranoid about Muggles than even their counterparts in Britain. Which was how they'd ended up in the middle of nowhere.

She sighed and turned away from the window and looked around her bleak house. The stone walls were cracked, and without the wards and charms, the cold wind whistled through to chill them to the bone. The furniture was old and faded and wearing out. A large couch dominated the room, with two smaller wooden chairs making up the main seating area. Viktor had left their own furniture in storage at his parents' house in Bulgaria, deciding that they shouldn't bother with dragging it with them once he'd heard their rental would be furnished.

Hermione hadn't bothered with mending charms when they arrived, because she'd had no idea how long they would stay and deemed it not worth the bother. Now she was just used to looking at it.

She hated that couch with a passion. It was an apt symbol of her life. Lumpy, nearly formless, and desperately uncomfortable. It was nearly impossible to take a nap on it, without a Cushioning Charm.

Naps had become Hermione's sole pleasure.

When she slept, she dreamed.

Even that first week back in Bulgaria, she'd found that her dreams were much more pleasant than reality. She'd found herself going to sleep earlier and earlier until Viktor had snatched her out of bed at three o'clock in the afternoon one day and begged her to tell him what was wrong. She'd made something up out of thin air that she'd quickly forgotten. Thankfully, Viktor had promptly forgotten about it as well. She'd been more mindful of her sleeping habits after that, but still approached bedtime like it was a secret addiction.

Viktor still sent her questioning glances whenever she would stomp off for a nap after they'd had an argument.

How could she tell him the truth? How did one explain that she was having a mad, passionate affair with her former employer in her dreams and preferred not to be awake?

Gods, it was so real. Her dream Severus was patient, and kind, and generous, and perceptive, and protective. He was also a heart-stoppingly talented lover. The number of nights she woke up in the midst of an orgasm outnumbered the nights she and Viktor had sex.

Some days she still felt a deep shame, but they were getting fewer and less deep.

The fact was, she was hopelessly in love with the Headmaster. She'd finally realized it the day they'd left Hogwarts. When she realized how much it pained her that she'd not seen him one last time. The carriage had pulled away, and she'd almost jumped out and run back. It seemed like all the color had been sucked out of her world that day.

It only made sense that she would seek him out in the privacy of her dreams, but the dreams themselves were beginning to make her curious. It was things like the fact she knew exactly what the scar patterns on his chest looked like, and how silky his body hair was. It never varied, and it always seemed far too tactile to just be a product of her imagination.

And then there were the echoes. Like in the library that day. He'd finally called her by her name, but instead of the thrill of hearing it for the first time, she'd been overwhelmed by a sense of déjà vu that had broken her heart. She _knew_ he'd said it before; she could even recreate the inflection and the tone of voice. And yet he never had.

Her first fight with that goat, over the scarf her mother had knitted for her, that she'd though safe setting on the wall, had triggered another echo. She'd grabbed the other end and pulled, shouting, "Let go!" and froze, hearing a deep, masculine voice cry, _'I don't want to!_' She'd heard an incredible scream of release come after and had even felt her body pulse in response. But it had never happened.

Between the dreams and the echoes, she'd begun to wonder if there was more to her obsession with her Headmaster than a bored wife's illicit crush on a married, older man.

A frown creased her forehead for a moment before she went to find some parchment.

Viktor came out of the kitchen, wiping crumbs off his robes. "Ninny? I left a plate for you on the table. It vas very tasty, thank you."

She looked over at him and then went back to hunting for a quill and some ink. "I'm still not hungry."

He grabbed his cloak off a peg. "You could haff just come and sat vith me. It vould be nice to just sit and talk ven I am home for lunch. No?"

She just looked at him and blinked. "I'm sorry. I've had a lot on my mind."

"I see that. Do you vant to talk? Is there something I can do?"

"Well, you could find a way to get rid of that goat."

"Vot goat?"

She looked out the window at the goat and sighed. "You'll be late back to work. You should go. Have a good afternoon."

She turned her back on him and headed into the bedroom.

* * *

Headmaster Snape finished his shower and quickly dried himself with a swish of his wand. He stared long and hard at himself in the mirror before tossing his nightshirt over his head, pulling his hair out from under the collar, and dousing the lights. He walked into the bedroom and slid under the covers. This would be their third attempt. Their first had ended before it had begun when he'd been humiliated to discover he couldn't rise to the occasion. The second, scheduled a month later, had been perfunctory at best. He'd felt like he'd been on the verge of sawing her in half before he'd finally coughed out a climax. The two of them had been uncomfortably chaffed the next day.

He hoped tonight would be different, but was at a loss as to how it could be. She'd sent him a note giving him the approximate times of her ovulation in the middle of a meeting with the Ministry board. He'd felt his sack shrivel in response. Their usual infrequent bouts of sex had turned into regularly scheduled, infrequent bouts of sex. Whatever gender this child ended up being, their middle name was going to be Bravium.

He slid closer to his wife, and she sighed and flipped her magazine closed, tossing it on the nightstand, as she flicked out the candles with her wand. Snape rolled his eyes in the dark.

He settled against her and began to slowly run his fingers across her stomach, feeling the warm silk of her nightgown sliding against her skin. She twitched away.

"Don't tickle," she snapped.

Snape used a firmer touch and let his mind wander in search of anything pleasant it might find. His hand moved up and cupped her breast in the dark and his brain filled in the memory of another breast. Rounder, fuller, and with a weighty sag that spoke of ripeness. He let his memories replay what it had been like to have a woman who had enjoyed his touch, whose body responded to his every stroke. A woman who moaned and shuddered in his arms.

He slipped away from Lenore and made love to his Hermione again. He heard her moans and felt her tremble. His hands played skillfully with her folds until she was eagerly guiding him to her entrance. As he slid home, he leaned forward and captured her cry with his mouth. He released his pent up frustration and passion into the kiss and felt his heart skip as she mewled her own response.

Long-nailed fingers clawed at his back and his eyes flew open in surprise. He wasn't hearing the memory of Hermione moaning underneath him, he was hearing Lenore. His mouth dropped open in confusion and he struggled to maintain, as his mind reeled. Lenore had never been this passionate with him before. She urged him on with her hands on his hips and her heels pressing into his thighs. He picked up the pace and pounded into her, sending her pleasured cries spiraling upward. He kissed her deeply, groaning as her mouth opened under his. He made love to his wife as if it was the first time.

He felt her walls start to flutter around him, and he slid a hand down and captured her nub under his thumb, stroking and flicking, intently waiting for a cry or a shudder to tell him which she preferred. She'd never given him a clue before.

She broke apart under him, and he spent himself from the feel of her pulsing around him for the first time and the soft, sexy cry that escaped her when she came.

He held himself above her and looked down on his wife in the dark. He couldn't control the timid, proud smile that he knew was plastered to his face. He lifted a hand and stroked it along her cheek, gently.

The dark provided no warning for the slap that rocked his head to the side and set his ear to ringing. He rolled off her and snatched up his wand, igniting all the candles in the room in one furious motion.

"What the fuck was that for?" he demanded.

She sat in the middle of the bed clutching the sheet to her neck and staring at him with undiluted fury.

"How dare you do that to me!" she snarled. Her eyes were wild, and he saw that she was deeply upset by what had transpired. He took a shuddering breath and ran his hand through the long curtain of his hair before kneeling back on the bed, maintaining a careful distance, and placing a pillow in his lap.

"Lenore, that's what's supposed to happen. It was beautiful."

"You made me betray him!" she cried in anguish.

He blinked and then understood. He reached out and gently picked up one of her elegantly manicured hands in his own and held it lightly.

"Julius was a good man, Lenore. He deserved your love, and he deserves your loyalty. But he wouldn't expect you to spend the rest of your life in misery, not if he loved you. He would have wanted you to remember him, yes, but he would have wanted you to find happiness as well. You didn't betray him. You're just starting to live again. You're starting to feel. I'm deeply honored that you gifted me with this tonight. It wouldn't have happened if you weren't ready."

He had her for a few moments, she calmed as his words penetrated, but he knew it the minute he lost her. She snatched her hand back and grabbed the necklace her dead lover had goven her all those years ago. Her eyes turned wild again as she looked at him with such loathing his throat closed over.

"How dare you! You think you can worm you way in and can take his place? You're not half the man he was and you never will be! How dare you think you can give me advice as if you understood what it was like. You didn't lose what I lost!"

He reeled back as if he'd been slapped again. "I think if you bother to remember, you will find that I did, in fact, lose someone I loved in the war," he said in a quiet voice. A voice that was just a hair too calm.

"That bitch never loved you! You don't know what it was like at all! How could you? You're fucking unlovable!"

He felt the blood drain from his face. "That's not true," he whispered. The terrible pain clawing at his chest demanded retaliation. "Someone did love me! I had a chance to be happy and I threw her away so I could stay here and be miserable with you!"

Her eyes filled with understanding and her fury rose to the next level of madness. She scrambled off the bed and grabbed her wand. Aiming it at her belly, she performed the contraceptive charm and then looked at him in triumph.

"No!" he cried, launching himself across the bed too late. "NO! How could you? Why would you do such a thing?"

"Oh, get over it Severus. Nothing could have happened yet. And now, nothing ever will. You want a baby? Go find your fucking mistress!" She turned and fled into the bathroom.

Severus collapsed, hugging the pillow tightly to his chest in an effort to try and stop the pain. He heard the sound of the shower and looked around the room in shock. He wondered at how it could all look the same when everything else in his life had just imploded. He pushed himself up off the bed and straightened his nightshirt. He opened the top drawer and snatched up his box, holding it tightly to his chest as he stumbled out of the room and down the stairs.

He stopped and stared at Albus but couldn't make sense of anything the portrait said to him, so he wandered out of his office.

He didn't know how long he rambled around the halls of the school with his hair streaming loose and lank from sweat and his feet bare on the stones. It was Minerva who finally came scurrying along in her dressing gown, hair braided for bed and a cloak in her hands. She wrapped it around his shoulders and led him back to her quarters where she made a bed for him in her sitting room. She murmured motherly words as she tended to his face, while Albus watched with concern from a painting of the Highlands in Autumn. He fell asleep still clutching the box to his chest.

* * *

Severus looked at the assortment of robes hanging in his wardrobe and scowled. Pulling out his wand, he started to vanish them one by one. First the various blues, then the three different shades of brown. The grey, trimmed with satin was banished with a flourish. The dark green velvet lasted several heartbeats while he contemplated it but then it, too disappeared, leaving a hanger swinging wildly back and forth behind it. When he was done, only four sets remained, all black. He chose one and walked into the bathroom.

He stared at himself in the mirror as he dressed. The healing paste Minerva had applied to his face the night before had done the job well enough. Only two pink lines from where Lenore had opened him up with her nails remained. He found himself resentful that his memory of being punched by Granger—something that had amused him—had been replaced by something so ugly. He carefully brushed out his long hair and fixed the clasp just below his shoulders as always. Picking up his wand he grabbed his hair and sliced through it a few inches above the clasp. He stared at the results. One side was slightly longer than the other but he couldn't be bothered with such trivial things. He was happy enough with the result. He tossed the hair into the sink and Vanished it with his wand.

He fixed his cuffs and squared his shoulder and went to confront his wife. She'd been sitting at the table with her plate untouched before her when he'd entered their rooms at dawn. He'd ignored her. He hadn't been ready. Now he was as ready as he'd ever be.

He walked out of the bedroom and turned to her, but walked no further. She set her trembling teacup down on its saucer and cleared her throat before lifting her chin and meeting his gaze. Her eyes were swollen. He'd never seen evidence of her crying before. He regarded her with faint curiosity.

"Severus," she said with the slightest quaver in her voice. "I'm sorry. I went too far. I have no excuse, nor any explanation." She looked away and examined her nails, obviously uncomfortable. He wondered if there was still blood under them. "If you choose to start divorce proceedings, I won't fight you. But if you chose to give me a second chance, I will do everything I can to make it up to you. Even a child. For everything you have done for me, I at least owe you that much."

He blinked at her and then frowned.

"Why? Why would you want to stay, Lenore? What is it you could possibly get out of this? Why would you even _want_ to stay married to me? You would be so much happier on your own. You're entitled to half of what I have. If you manage it well, you would have no need to work."

He closed his eyes and ran his hand through his hair, startling himself when it stopped too soon.

"You don't even like me," he said in defeat, hating how small he sounded.

"That's not true! I do respect you! I didn't mean any of the things I said! I don't want to be alone. I can't—" she flailed her arms, as if calling an answer from afar. "I'm happy with my life, Severus. I'm happy here with you. I just wish you were happy with me." She looked at the wall and closed her eyes. "I can accept that you've taken a mistress. You obviously know how to be discreet, since I had no idea. I can't say as I blame you. It just came as a bit of a shock. Everything last night came as a bit of a shock."

"One moment of spontaneous indiscretion does not equate to having a mistress. I simply said I had a chance to be with someone who actually cared for me and didn't take it. I'm sorry my actions hurt you. It was unplanned and will not ever happen again. I believe last night was punishment enough."

"Agreed," she said with feeling. "So does that mean we go on?"

He sighed and scrubbed at his face. "I'm at a loss as to why you want to, but I see no need to make any drastic changes until we've both had more time to think on things."

"I'm glad, Severus. I think once this all settles down you will find things will be right back to the way they were in no time."

He slid his eyes over to her trying to see if that was a poor attempt at humor, but the hopeful look on her face made him close his eyes in sadness.

* * *

Hermione heard the sound of papers being crunched and turned in time to see that the damned goat had wandered into the yard again and was eating her notes. She was furious. She grabbed her wand and jumped up just as the beast gulped down the last page. She cursed a blue streak—something she'd been getting better at since she'd first met the goat. Waving her hands to herd the goat back out through the gate, she warded it against further incursions. She'd only taken two steps before she heard the click of its hooves. Turning, she saw it jump down off the fence and dash over to her chair and snatch up her book. She squealed and shot a stinging hex at it, but only succeeded in angering it to the point of spitefully trampling all of her work and ruining two more books. She screamed her frustration.

Viktor came running out of the house and when he saw what had happened he burst into laughter. Black spots danced in front of her eyes.

"It's not funny!" she cried. He continued to howl at the sight in front of him. She aimed her wand at him and screamed, "I mean it Viktor, stop laughing!"

He stopped, spreading his hands wide. "Ninny, it's just a goat. It is doing vot goats do."

"And I say it can bloody well do what goats do somewhere else! I've had it with that goat. I've had it with this shitty house, and I'm not particularly pleased with you at the moment either! I asked you weeks ago to find a way to make sure that goat didn't come back, and you probably never even gave it another thought, did you?" He frowned at her. "Well? Did you? No. No, you did not."

"Ninny, vy are you using such language? It is not like you."

"You know what's not like me, Viktor? Goats. Gods damned, Merlin-buggered, fucking goats. And Armenia. Armenia is not like me either. To hell with Armenia. It has too many fucking goats."

"Haff you been drinking?"

"Not yet," she snarled and stomped away.

"Vere are you going?"

"Do you really fucking care? Just go to work," she bellowed.

Hermione slammed the door and ripped off her thick cloak and flung it across the room. She balled her hands into fists and screamed as loud as she could with her mouth closed. All she accomplished was a sore throat. She sighed and walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.

She walked back into the living room and sat on the threadbare sofa and rocked back and forth. Weeks' worth of notes had been lost, along with three books that would take weeks to replace.

She scrubbed a hand through her hair. She'd been so close to finding another piece of the puzzle. And now she would have to wait.

Not that she didn't already have a lot to work with.

She snatched up an old envelope and began sketching. The pattern was by now more familiar to her than her own. Thanks to a Healer's manual, she now knew which of these lines were caused by Sectumsempra, which were caused by shrapnel and knife wounds, and which were caused by Crucio, administered at close quarters.

Oh, yes. She had a lot of evidence to work with now, not the least bit being the fact that she knew a lot more about what Severus Snape had lived through during the war than she'd ever been told.

She now knew without a doubt that her addictive dreams were more than mere wish fulfillment. Once written down on paper, her list had pointed to a fantastical conclusion. At first, she'd rejected it outright. However, when she started looking back on the chain of events last spring in the new light of her hypothesis, things started to click in new ways and she'd been nearly struck dumb by her realization. The capper was the day in the library. Their last, private conversation.

She knew she was right.

She felt it in her bones.

She'd had sex with Severus Snape and then allowed him to Obliviate her. She'd obviously been in on the plan, she'd written a note to herself, covering up the matter quite effectively.

Why? How had it happened? For her to have had sex with him signaled a depth of feelings she hadn't been aware of until _after_ that incident.

She could look back now and see plainly where she'd been fascinated by him almost from the moment she'd gone back to the school. She could easily point to several incidences and see where she had been out and out lying to herself to explain away her own attraction.

They'd certainly developed a unique friendship in the months preceding the day she'd been hexed. But there was little or nothing she could point to on his part that would show her attraction was reciprocated. He'd shown her concern, but never above or beyond what could be perceived as normal in a caring employer. Once or twice, alright to be honest, a handful of times his actions could have been perceived as indulging in a bit of favoritism. His constant denial of Viktor's requisitions and approval of every single one of hers did look suspicious in hindsight—not even Minerva had all of her requests granted—but that was such a tiny thing to pin an affair on.

Her biggest fear was that it _hadn't_ been a mutual attraction. Why else had he cut her dead the way he had afterwards? It never made sense and had hurt her deeply. She had to assume that he'd been ashamed of his actions and had made sure there would be no repeat. Had she thrown herself at him? Somehow pressured him until he relented? If that was so, why had he seemed so desolate after he'd found out she _wasn't_ pregnant?

It was the only thing she had that gave her a clue to his feelings. That one moment when his mask had shattered and he'd looked like his world had been destroyed. There'd been so much sadness when he'd looked at her. And when he'd touched her, wiped away her tears, that wasn't the action of a man who had been used, was it? Why would he have wanted her to carry his child if not because he cared? What would he have done if she_ had _been pregnant? Would he have told her the truth? Or would she have even more holes in her head?

There were too many questions.

That's why she had ordered those books on Obliviates and spell damage. She'd started researching ways to reverse the Memory Charm he'd used on her. She'd done it for her parents, successfully bringing them back from Australia after the war, but she hadn't used an Obliviate. She was dealing with a different kettle of fish altogether.

She'd just reached the chapter explaining why she didn't have as many holes and gaps in her memory as she _should_ have when the goat had come up and eaten all her notes and then the book. It would take her weeks to get a new copy from England.

Hermione looked at the clock on the wall and wondered if she could justify a nap at eleven o'clock in the morning. She finished her glass of water, set it on the table and closed her eyes, resting her head between a hard place and a lumpy one on the back of the couch. Her hands curled around imaginary fingers as he held her arms against the wall over her head.

"I said: Are you avake, Ninny?"

"What? Vik? Yes, I'm awake. I was just—"

"Sleeping. I know. This is the depression. No? You are alvays unhappy."

She blinked her eyes clear and saw the light was fading outside.

"I didn't mean it. I'll get dinner started now. I'm sorry, it will only be a minute."

"Leave it. I already started it. I haff something for you. It came by owl while you vere _asleep_." He tossed an envelope on the couch next to her and moved away towards the kitchen.

Hermione picked up the thick envelope and saw the Hogwarts seal and tore it open. Inside she found another envelope and a letter from Minerva. She grimaced at the way her heart sank.

'_Hermione,_

_I hope this letter finds you well. It is my deepest wish that it finds you busy in some important research or project that uses your talents to their fullest potential. One that you need a break from. If this is not the case, and I have ample reason to suspect it is not, then I hope my letter will bring you some much needed pleasure._

_The Headmaster has agreed to host a New Year's Ball here and has put me in charge of inviting former staff as well as the usual Ministry toadies and war heroes. You qualify in two of these categories; therefore, it is with great hope that you will accept the enclosed invitation to spend the weekend with us here. Guests are invited to stay here for the entirety of the weekend. However, if you and Viktor wish to make other arrangements, that is perfectly acceptable as well. There will be activities planned for the whole weekend, with the ball itself taking place on Saturday evening._

_The invitation is a Portkey and the activation instructions are on the back. _

_I hope to see you soon and look forward to a nice, long chat._

_With love,_

_Minerva McGonagall' _

Hermione jumped up off the couch and ran into the kitchen.

"Viktor, look! We have an invitation to the New Year's Ball at Hogwarts!"

He turned away from the stove and looked at it and then at her and shrugged.

"Ve haff plans already for New Year's. The Armenian Memorial Quidditch Ball. It vill be much more fun than the other. No stuffy academics."

"I haven't heard about any Quidditch Ball before."

"The invitation came two veeks ago. I already replied."

"But I want to go to the Hogwarts ball."

"Vy?"

"Why? Because I want to. Because all my friends will be there. Because I want to do something that I would enjoy for once!" Her voice had steadily climbed as she answered.

"Ah, now ve come to it, yes? If I don't go to this ball, you vill sleep even more. I vill haff even less of a vife than I have now. I vill be married to a bear that hibernates!"

Hermione backed away, surprised by the vehemence behind his words.

She felt wretched. She really wanted to go to this ball because she wanted a chance to see Snape again. How was she justified in being angry at her husband because he wouldn't let her go and stare at another man like a love-struck teenager? A married one at that.

What kind of creature was she turning into?

"We don't have to go. I just thought it would be fun, but if we have another party to go to, I'm sure that will be fine as well."

She turned away and walked out of the kitchen, dropping the invitation into the trash on the way out.

* * *

"Well, the guest list is shaping up nicely," Minerva said. Snape looked up from his journal to where his Deputy Headmistress and his wife had gathered in his office to finalize plans for the ball .

"How many cancellations do we have?" Lenore asked. "There are a few people we can still invite at the last minute to fill in any empty places."

"Not many at all. Only five so far. Three people from the Ministry list—I forgot who, but I wrote them down here somewhere." Minerva started to shuffle through several papers. "And the Krums, of course. I'm rather put out by that, I was really hoping to see Hermione again, but she said her husband had already committed them to another function for New Year's."

"Blame that on Severus; he dithered too long. The short notice was nearly indecent by polite standards."

Snape stood up and dropped his journal onto his desk. "Excuse me, ladies. Allow me to leave you more privacy in which to complain about me."

The two women gave him annoyed looks as he swept away with a polite nod to each, and headed out of his office and down the stairs.

He kept walking until he was out tramping through the snow, headed into the Forbidden Forest. Once he was safely hidden from the school, he let his disappointment show. He spun around and fell back against a tree and started to softly bang his head against the trunk.

He was such a fool. It was better this way. Why would he have wanted to see her again? To torture himself some more? Nothing had changed. They were both still married. Why the hell was he so upset? This was what they both decided, wasn't it? Granted, he was the only one that knew that now, but still. Obviously she had moved on. Why couldn't he?

He knew the answer. It was because deep down he hoped that if she could fall in love with him once, she might fall in love with him again, if only he could see her. It was a stupid, childish wish. Why would she? He didn't even understand why she had done so in the first place.

And what, exactly was he supposed to do with his wife if Hermione did magically sweep back into his life? Toss her to the wolves like her brother had?

Things between Lenore and he had fallen into a polite misery. Their attempts at creating a new life had gone from laughable to hideous as each month met with failure. They barely spoke at all. They were just two strangers sharing a space, living a lie, and heartlessly copulating once a month.

She was happy.

He was less miserable knowing she was happy.

And there it was.

All she wanted was his protection, his reputation, and his desolation. Nothing more.

All he wanted was Hermione without guilt.

He might as well ask for the moon.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his cigarettes.

He lit one and took a long drag while looking up through the bare branches of the trees at the moon. He wanted that moon so fucking badly it made his chest ache.

* * *

Next up: Crashing a ball, is it ever a good idea?

Lurker: I actually finished this story two months ago, but needed to step away before a final edit.

MistressBlackSnape: Stop smashing your head on your desk. You're making my teeth rattle.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN:** Thanks to **astopperindeath**,** Dressagegrrrl**, and **Hebe GB**, who went the extra mile as I gutted this chapter and glued it back together at the last minute.

* * *

Hermione Apparated into the yard with all her packages. She narrowed her eyes at the goat standing on the roof, looking down at her with what looked far too much like a smirk.

"One of these days, you're going to end up as kebabs and I'm going to have the last laugh, you bastard."

The goat gave a bleat and clattered up and over to the other side of the roof.

She made her way into the house and dropped her packages by the door so she could take her cloak off.

"Viktor?" she called. She stuck her head into the kitchen and then picked up her packages and wandered towards the bedroom to put them away. "Viktor?"

She entered the bedroom and found him stretched out across the bed asleep. She quietly put her things down and went over and shook him on the shoulder.

"Vik? Are you alright?" He rolled over and looked up at her with a bleary eye. "Are you sick? Do you need a potion?"

"No. I'm fine. I just vanted to take a nap," he said in a rough voice.

"Oh. Are you sure you're alright? You don't usually nap. Maybe some Pepperup, just in case?"

"Maybe you should stop nagging. Maybe I just vanted to nap. Maybe I vanted to see vut the big deal is, vy you are always sleeping."

Hermione snatched her hand back and straightened up. "What the hell is wrong with you? I was only worried about you, there's no need to bite my head off."

She walked over and started to put her packages away.

"I came home from vork today and you vere not here."

"I went shopping, I needed a dress for the ball on Saturday."

"You did not let me finish. You vere not here. I thought you left. I thought you left _me_."

She straightened up and stared at him in surprise. "Oh, Viktor—"

"You vill let me finish!" he shouted, getting out of the bed and closing in on her. She backed away, shocked. "I thought you left me and I vas _relieved_! I realized how much you hurt me vith your sadness and I cannot take it anymore. This thing that's wrong vith you. I cannot fix it and you do not even try. You just sit and sit and then you sleep. Vut kind of a life is this, I ask? Then I realized you vere just shopping and I vas so upset I had to lie down."

She stared at him in shock as she realized what he was saying. She raised a shaking hand and pressed it against her pounding heart.

"How dare you," she whispered. Her voice slowly raised in volume. "How _dare_ you say these things to me! You don't like that I'm _sad_? What the fuck have you _ever_ done to make me happy? I've run after you for _six fucking years _so you could be happy!

"I told you what would happen if we left Hogwarts. I _told_ you I would have a hard time! And what did you do? You dragged me all the way to Fucknowswhere, _Armenia_! And you dare give me grief because I _sit_ all day? I have nothing to fucking do! What the bloody hell was I supposed to do? Play with the goat? Sit in the stands and watch you show off for your players every day again? You fucking bastard! You absolute, selfish, arse! Do you know what I gave up because of you, you narcissistic little shit? I could have been happy! I had a job I loved! I had—" She stopped herself and broke down in tears.

"You haff changed, Hermione. I don't know this woman with the foul mouth and selfishness. You used to make a nice home. You used to enjoy life. You used to love me. I used to look forward to coming home to my Ninny every day, but I'm tired now too. I can't live like this. I love you, Ninny, but it is not enough anymore. I'm tired of being made to feel bad for giving you the things and providing for you. I can see that I was not good enough."

She looked at him as if he had suddenly gone demented.

"You just don't get it, do you?" she said. "I gave up everything to make you happy for years, and you never even noticed I was miserable until I couldn't do for _you_ anymore_."_

"_I_ used to make you happy!" he shouted. "_I_ vas the one that made you smile again when the var was over! _I_ vas the one that made you laugh again! You vere like a broken clock and it vas me that fixed you!"

"Yes, and I'm grateful for that, but I need more! There's got to be more for me than just being Viktor Krum's grateful wife! You used to be proud of how smart I was! What is the point of me being smart if I'm not going to use it? Tell me, Viktor! Why do you still love me?"

"I don't know!" he snarled. "Vut is there left to love? You just ignore me all the time. You sit at the dinner table and stare into space like I am _nothing! _I talk to you and you don't even reply! I can't do this anymore. It's like living with a ghost. You are too much changed. We never should have gone to work at that school. It ruined you."

"Having a purpose ruined me?"

"Yes!"

"But me sitting around too depressed to even blink because I don't have a purpose makes you not love me anymore?"

"Why is it alvays about you? When will you start to think about me again? Vy is doing something for me alvays a terrible sacrifice on your part? Vy are you punishing me?"

She sucked in a deep breath of air and felt herself grow cold. "We never had a chance, did we? I was always afraid that if I didn't keep you happy I would be alone again. But I'm alone anyway. I tried, Viktor. I really did. But I don't think you've ever understood me at all."

"That is not true, Ninny. I just don't understand you now."

She wrapped her arms around herself. "So how do we fix this?"

He gave her a long stare, and she watched as the muscles in his jaw jumped.

"Vee don't. Vee should stop this now before vee start to hate each other."

A shocked silence descended on them, and after several minutes of staring at each other, he turned away from her and walked out if the room. She heard the front door slam and a crack of Apparition.

She heard a clatter of hoofs and looked out the window to see the goat trotting out of the yard. She watched as it made its way down the road and out of sight. She sat on the bed and cried until darkness had settled on the house. After what seemed like a lifetime, she scrubbed her face with her sleeve and bent down to drag her trunk out from under the bed.

* * *

Hermione slunk into the kitchen and flopped down into the seat. A cup of tea was pushed in front of her and she looked up and gave her mother a weak smile.

"No sleep again last night, sweetheart?"

"A little, but I kept waking myself up every time I rolled over." Hermione dragged her wild hair back off her face. "I used to be able to sleep at the drop of a hat. Now I can't get more than twenty minutes."

"It's not that strange, dear. You've had your whole life turned upside down. Of course it's going to affect you. You just need time. It might take you months to pull yourself together. Have you heard anything from Viktor?"

"No, but I haven't written to him either."

"Then who sent the owl last night? Harry? Ron? Have you finally told them?"

"No. It was from Viktor's mother. She wanted to know where to send the things I had in storage and to inform me that she took the liberty of taking back her mother's necklace."

"What a wretched woman! It's only been three days! How positively ghoulish!"

Hermione smiled at her mother's reaction. It was far more vehement than her own had been.

"She also made it clear that she's convinced there's another man and her son is well done with me."

Hermione's mother winced and squeezed her hand.

"Well, that last bit is sort of true, but it doesn't excuse her behavior. There's an appropriate time for such things, and she jumped the gun. Don't beat yourself up about your Headmaster. You need to finish dealing with the one thing before you deal with that mess."

"I don't know if I can. They're both so intertwined. My mind just goes back and forth between the two like a tennis match. I can't think of the one thing for long before the other jumps in. I need to talk to him, Mum. I need to find out the truth."

"Not now you don't. In the state you're in? That would be the height of stupidity. Wait until your mind settles. If you run off to see him now, you could make an even bigger mess of everything. He's a married man, Hermione. And you said yourself you don't think he wanted to pursue it. That moment between the two of you in the library could have been him just putting it to rest. You should stay away from him. Especially now. You need time to heal."

Hermione sighed and drank her tea. "You're right, of course."

"I know I'm right, but are you going to listen to me?"

She looked at her mother and scrunched up her face. "Most likely not."

Her mother sat back in her chair and sighed. "I thought as much."

* * *

Hermione approached the gate to Hogwarts with a lump in her stomach and a light-headedness that left her feeling disoriented.

"Name?" asked the supercilious young man at the gate.

Hermione recognized him from the Valentine's ball the Ministry had held last year.

"Krum. Hermione Krum."

She waited while he scanned his parchments, casting another warming charm on herself.

"I'm sorry. I don't seem to have a Krum on the list," he said, with a gleeful smirk. "Perhaps you have your invitation? Usually, the _invited_ guests arrive by Portkey from the courtyard."

Hermione panicked. It hadn't occurred to her that she might not get in.

"There was a bit of a mix up, my invitation was lost. Besides, I'm staying in Hogsmeade, not at the castle. _Minerva _told me that I could make whatever arrangements I wished."

"Yes, well, the Deputy Headmistress obviously didn't think your name was important enough to put on the list, did she?. My instructions were implicit. If you're not on the list, I cannot allow you in. This is a private party. No gate crashers." He stepped away and turned his nose up.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Look, you pompous little fuckwit—"

"Hermione? Blimey! What are you doing standing out there?"

She turned her head and saw Hagrid lumbering over to the gate. "Hagrid! Oh, it's so good to see you! Would you please explain to this… gentleman that I was invited, despite what his stupid list says?"

"Of course you are!" He turned to the Ministry toady and smiled. "This here's our Hermione. She was a professor here, and you'd do well to let her in, if you know what I mean. She's a special friend of Hogwarts."

Despite Hagrid's friendly demeanor, the little man blanched as the half-giant towered over him and tapped the gate with his wand.

Hermione strode through the gate and gave the man a withering look.

"Enjoy your stay," he mumbled.

"Thank you," she replied.

She turned and gave Hagrid a hug and squealed as he lifted her off the ground.

"How's Grawp?" she asked when he'd put her down.

"Oh, he's fine. He's enjoying himself. Olympe and I went to visit him last summer, and between you and me, I think he's found himself a girlfriend."

"How lovely!"

They chatted amiably about how exciting the weekend was going to be as they strolled up the lane towards the school. Hermione felt her hair trying to stand on end as she neared the doors. The closer they got, the more her palms started to sweat and she was sure anyone close enough would be able to hear the pounding of her heart.

They reached the doors and Hagrid tugged them open and ushered her through. A house-elf was waiting to take her cloak, and she fumbled with her clasp before she managed to tug it off. She turned to hand it over and froze.

There he was, chatting with a group of people she didn't recognize, not ten feet away. His back was to her, so all she could see was that he'd cut his hair and was dressed in familiar black robes.

She wrestled to control her fight or flight response. It was mostly a flight response. She had a fear that if he were to turn around and see her, she just might faint and make a spectacle of herself.

Sudden doubts assailed her. What if she was wrong? What if it was all just the silly speculation and fantasies of a desperate woman who's life had spiraled out of her control? How would she find out the truth? And if she did find out the truth, what did she think would happen? As far as she knew, he was still a married man. Just because she was obsessed with him, didn't make it a given that he would share her feelings or welcome them. She might have come all this way because she was a spectacular fool.

"Hermione!" a familiar voice cried. She'd still been staring at the Headmaster's back when Harry had called out her name. She saw him react. She saw the head snap up and the shoulders stiffen. She saw the way his face twitched to the side before he caught himself. Whatever the man thought of her, good or ill, it was obviously not indifference.

Further speculation was cut off as Harry pulled her into a hug, even more painful than Hagrid's.

"What a wonderful surprise! Minerva said you couldn't make it," Harry said, as Ginny came hustling over and pulled her into another welcoming hug.

"Yes, well, there was a bit of a change in plans. I actually had to try and bluff my way in. I lost my invitation. Hagrid here saved me, or I'd be walking back into Hogsmead right now. Bluffing is not a skill I have."

"Where are you staying then?" asked Ginevra.

"I have a room down at The Three Broomsticks," she said.

"That won't do at all," Harry said. "We'll find you a room in the castle, if there's none left, you can bunk with us." Ginny nodded enthusiastically as Harry looked around the Entrance Hall. "Where's Viktor? I want to get him signed up on my team, we're out-gunned in the Alumni match tomorrow. Hooch is better at bribery than I am. Such a corrupt way to create a team."

"Viktor couldn't make it," she said quietly, looking down at her snow boots.

"Aw, that's a shame, he's always—"

"Actually, Harry. Viktor and I have split up. We're getting a divorce."

She lifted her head and looked, not at Harry, but at Snape, who was pivoting slowly in place until he was staring at her with a face frozen into immobility. She met his gaze calmly, feeling curiously lighter now that one truth was out.

Ginny and Harry made surprised and commiserating noises, but she only heard a few of their words. Her entire world had narrowed down to one set of piercing black eyes across the hall.

And then it was over. He nodded to her, politely, and then simply turned back to his conversation.

She struggled not to feel like she'd been slighted—what had she been expecting? That he would rush across the room and sweep her off her feet? She really was such an idiot.

Her reaction must have shown on her face. Ginny pulled her into a hug, assuming she was upset about her announcement and Hermione thought it was as good a reason to be upset as the other and let her friend lead her off to the Great Hall, where luncheon was still being served.

It was only about twenty minutes later when Minerva came bustling up and pulled her into a hug and started fussing over her as well.

"I'm so glad you came," Minerva repeated. "We're going to have plenty of time to catch up. There's nothing really scheduled until tomorrow, tonight is for old friends. There will be a casual dinner and cocktails later, but right now you look a bit done in, my dear. Let me escort you to your room, so you can have a bit of a lie down."

"I'll be fine, Minerva, thank you. Besides, I'm staying down in Hogsmead."

"Nonsense! The Headmaster ordered your things brought to the castle and had a room prepared for you already. It's not the largest, we're a bit full up, but it's comfortable all the same. We've taken care of Rosmerta's bill, as well. I've added it to the party expenses."

Hermione turned towards where Minerva had gestured and saw the Headmaster standing in the doorway of the Great Hall, watching her. Their eyes met for only a moment, before he turned on his heel and left in a swirl of black robes. Her heart started to pound in her chest.

"Thank you. Thank you, very much, Minerva. In that case, I _would_ like to lie down for a bit.

* * *

Snape turned away from the doorway of the Great Hall and walked through the castle, occasionally nodding to various guests along the way. He murmured the password to the gargoyle, never breaking his stride as the statue jumped to the side to avoid him. He continued straight on through his office and up the stairs behind the tapestry, through the sitting room and into the bedroom. He closed and locked the bedroom door before he sat down on the edge of the bed and rocked back and forth, hands clasped together and jammed between his knees, with his shoulders hunched up around his ears.

He stayed like that for fifteen minutes before he sprang up. Two long strides and he snatched open his sock drawer and dug out the open box. He scooped up the empty crystal vial with one hand and brought his wand to his temple with the other. His hands stopped and he just stood there, holding the vial with his wand pressed to his head. The wand started to tremble in his grip and he suddenly turned and flung the hand-blown, crystal vial at the wall and watched it shatter into glittering dust. He turned his wand on the wooden box and blasted it to pieces before spinning on his heel and leaving.

* * *

Hermione fidgeted through dinner. She'd found herself seated at the large round table with most of the staff, and had enjoyed catching up with everyone, genuinely amused by the stories of their latest teaching exploits. She'd spent most of the meal trying to keep her eyes from straying across the room to where the Headmaster was dining at a table that included Kingsley Shacklebolt and other Ministry VIPs, and all their spouses.

Ron had arrived, along with an army of Weasleys and gathered at the next table. When Molly had heard that Hermione was soon to be single, she hadn't bothered to be subtle in her hints that Ron was still available. Ron and Hermione had stared at each other, mortified, while his mother blathered on, oblivious to Ginny's hisses and significant looks.

As the plates cleared, and people started to mingle about the hall, Ron stood up and asked Hermione if she would like more wine. She jumped up from her chair.

"I'll go with you," she said, desperate not to be left with Molly.

They wound their way through the hall until they reached the queue for the bar.

"So what really happened with Viktor? Why did you leave him?" Ron asked, obvious confusion in his voice.

"It was a mutual decision."

Ron's face clouded over. "I don't understand. I mean, you always looked so happy. I always thought he was a great guy."

"He was a great guy—he still is a great guy—but he was just… I changed. I guess I grew up finally. And that ruined everything. I liked having a career and he didn't. I gave up mine for him, but then I guess I punished him for making me. We were pretty miserable."

"That doesn't sound like you," Ron said. "I would have thought you would be too bossy to let things get like that."

She scowled at him and he laughed.

"It didn't start out that way. Making him happy was fun. Things were so crazy after the war that fun seemed like all that mattered. Viktor kept me moving, kept me from getting too serious. I indulged him willingly. I would say the first four years were wonderful. But I started to get restless. No, not restless. Is there an opposite to restless?"

"Tired?"

Hermione looked down at her feet. "I did get tired. Bone tired. I was so depressed after we left Hogwarts. I didn't want to leave to begin with and then we'd only just settled back down in Bulgaria when he took the job in Armenia on a whim. He never even asked me if I wanted to go."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. It sounds like you've had a tough time of it. I just wish you'd told one of us sooner. I feel like a prat for not knowing something was wrong."

"Aw, Ron. I didn't want anyone to know. I thought I could fix it. It's not your fault."

"Well, promise me that the next time you get married you won't keep secrets like that."

"What, you mean we're not getting married?" she said with a laugh. "But your mother has already picked out the flowers."

Ron rolled his eyes and groaned. "I'm sorry about that. She always did want you to be a part of the family. She really only means well."

Hermione laughed. "I know. When _are _you going to settle down? Who are you dating now?"

Ron puffed up. "I'm a free agent at the moment. I'm playing the field a bit."

"He means: Parvati caught him with Clarice Roundtree and dumped him, and then Clarice took up with Olias Stone." Hermione turned toward Harry who had popped up behind her. Ron made several sputtering sounds, but Hermione didn't hear what else he said.

Standing just behind Harry was Severus and Kingsley. Harry and Ron moved up in line as she just stared, desperate to try and say something normal sounding.

"Good evening, Minister, Headmaster."

"Hello, Hermione," Kingsley said. "It's wonderful to see you again."

"And you as well, I hope things at the Ministry are nice and quiet these days?" she asked.

"Only the usual budget wrangling with the new year starting up. Almost boring, really. Hopefully they will stay that way for a long time."

She gave Kingsley a warm smile before steeling her nerve and looking over at the dark-haired man, making the small hairs on her neck stand on end.

"Headmaster, thank you very much for making room for me at such short notice. I know it was terribly rude of me to decline the invitation and then just show up—"

Snape frowned and she snapped her mouth closed.

"Think nothing of it," he said, and the sound of his voice slithered along her nerve endings. "If we can't make room for our own, what does that say about our hospitality? I hope the room is suitable?"

"It's lovely. I would have been happy with a cupboard, to be honest. I'm rather easy to please."

Snape's eyes flared in intensity for the briefest of moments before they shuttered completely.

Hermione's mouth went dry and she blinked several times, trying to recover from what she'd just seen.

"Minerva tells me you've just returned from Armenia," Kingsley said. "Tell me, what sorts of things did you get up to over in those parts? I hear Armenia is beautiful, but I've never had a chance to go there, myself."

Hermione twisted her head away from Snape with difficulty.

She grimaced. "I honestly can't really tell you. There are parts of Armenia that are incredibly beautiful, but those weren't the parts I saw. I did visit Mount Ararat, of course, but I'm really only able to tell you about the eating habits of the local goats."

"Do they make good eating?" Kingsley quipped

She let out a low evil chuckle. "I was so close to finding out. This one little bugger ate all my research notes and then ate the text I was reading as well. It had taken weeks to have it delivered from Flourish and Blotts."

"What were you researching?" the Minister asked.

Hermione felt her face freeze and then a powerful urge swept over her and she turned to the Headmaster, looked him straight in his eyes, and said, "Obliviates."

He was good—much better than she—but she had seen his mask shatter once, and so she knew where to look. That crease, right between his eyes, gave the merest hint of surprise. So. She'd as good as thrown down the gauntlet. The next move was his.

"Fascinating? What sort of research were you doing?" asked Kingsley.

"I was researching ways that memories could be restored."

"And have you had any success?" Severus asked casually.

"No. Not before the goat struck. But I did find a way to create the exact shape of the missing piece, so to speak. To build up what I call the echoes, the sensory data that is gathered and held in other parts of the brain. Using that technique, one can get a remarkably clear picture of what, exactly, is missing. My theory is: if one can somehow access another person's memory of the same event, through a pensieve, for instance, then the strengthened echoes will knit together and the true memory might be restored."

"Fascinating!" Kingsley said. "We could use that research. There are quite a few people still having issues from the war. Now that you are back, perhaps you would be interested in meeting with some people at St. Mungo's."

"That would be wonderful!" Hermione smiled at the Minister. Her courage had failed her and she couldn't look at the other man.

"Oi, Hermione! Red or white wine?" Ron called.

She turned with an over-bright smile that she feared might make her look a bit demented and mouthed 'red'. Turning back, she looked shyly up at the Headmaster to find him staring at her intently.

"So," she said, suddenly desperate to change the subject. "Did you gentlemen enjoy your Christmas?"

"I did," said the Minister. "My wife and I spent it with her family and it was very relaxing. I ate a bit too much," he said with a laugh, patting his stomach. "As usual. It will take me until spring to work it off again. What about you, Severus?"

"Mine was rather quiet," he replied. "We stayed here, since there are more students than usual spending the holiday with us this year. I used the time to outline a paper I've been thinking of writing."

"Oh?" she said. "What about?" She didn't think he'd written a paper in years and was fascinated.

"I've become rather interested in the Pandora myth," he said, staring directly at her.

Her hair stood up and she felt her heart start to skip around in her chest.

"That sounds intriguing," said Kingsley.

"Indeed," Snape said. "I think it would be instructive to develop the myth as a cautionary tale. Perhaps for the first-year Defense class." He sneered slightly at her. "One can never stress enough the importance of thinking through the possible ramifications of one's actions. Certain fascinations can lead one into a situation one didn't anticipate."

"I think that's rather admirable," Hermione said, anger slowly starting to curl through her veins. "But I think you would be better off using a different myth. I always thought Pandora got shafted a bit. After all, in the myth, no one ever actually told her what was in the jar. Don't you think an awful lot of unpleasantness could have been avoided if the situation had been clearly spelled out for her?"

"Do you really think she would have left the jar alone if she had known what harm opening it would have done?" He snapped.

"I think if she already had a clear idea of _exactly _what she was dealing with, then she would only needed a bit more information from which to form a solid judgment in the matter," she snapped back.

The Minister was looking from one to the other with growing confusion.

Snape took a step closer and loomed over her. "And what if she had helped to fill the jar to begin with?" he hissed.

"Then she made a terrible mistake," Hermione said with feeling. "I think the only thing that would keep her from lifting that lid again would be knowing that the one who'd helped her fill it didn't want her to. Don't forget, Headmaster, Hope was in that jar as well."

"This is why I became an Auror to begin with," said Kingsley wryly. "You scholarly types find the most ridiculous things to argue about."

"Here, here," said Ron, as he walked up and handed Hermione her glass of wine.

She finally looked away from Severus' burning eyes and gave Ron and Harry a wild-eyed smile. Her heart was racing from what had just transpired. He had basically confirmed everything she'd suspected. Now she just needed to know how he _felt_. She was almost giddy with excitement.

"Severus, it seems like an hour since you offered to fetch Vanessa and I a drink. Oh! Hello, Madame Krum. I'm so very pleased you managed to come after all. I know Minerva was terribly disappointed when she received your reply."

Hermione's emotions spun wildly out of control, as she turned and saw Lenore Snape smiling at her pleasantly. She was stunningly beautiful, as always. Hermione's self-confidence evaporated on the spot and she felt her stomach cramp.

"Madame Snape," she said. "I'm– My apologies for the confusion. I'm so glad I could attend after all."

"I do hope you enjoy all the festivities. I understand Professor Sprout is about to organize an evening sledding party," the other woman said, before turning towards Severus, who was now giving his wife his full attention.

Hermione knew herself to be dismissed. She'd never felt more dismissed in her life. She backed away, feeling hollow and foolish.

Harry and Ron were full of excitement at the prospect of a nighttime sledding party and eagerly headed off to tell the others.

Hermione felt tears pricking behind her eyes and turned swiftly away to follow them back to their table.

She felt like a fool. Only a moment before, she'd thought of nothing but herself. She'd been nearly euphoric from her own cleverness and the truths that had been ferreted out. She'd been completely unmindful of Severus's situation or feelings in the matter. He was still married. Just because she had more or less confirmed the fact that they'd slept together, didn't mean anything. In fact, he'd basically just told her to leave well enough alone and she was too busy with her own ingenuity to even pay attention to the message.

She was making a terrible mess of things. Her mother had been right. She was in no sort of emotional shape to be here. For heaven's sake, she'd just had her marriage blow up in her face a few days ago! What the hell was she doing here? What had been the rush? What would have been so wrong with waiting until she had pulled herself together a bit before requesting a private meeting with the man? Gods, she'd ambushed him in the middle of a crowded party, for heaven's sake. Could she have made a bigger arse of herself?

She needed to leave. It wasn't a particularly practical option, but perhaps she could invent some exotic Armenian flu and just quietly leave in the morning.

"C'mon, Hermione! The hills are calling!"

She snapped out of her thoughts and saw Ginny and Harry gesturing to her excitedly.

She gave them a half-hearted smile. There were a lot of people here she cared about besides the mysterious Severus Snape. It was more than time she started giving them some thought as well.

"I'm coming," she said.

* * *

Hermione was bone-tired. She'd been outside for nearly two hours. She'd made two trips down the slope, first with Pomona, then with Filius. After that, she'd sat with Minerva and watched the antics, while Minerva had lectured her on this new chance she'd been given to explore her own value as a person.

She'd enjoyed herself for the most part, but her thoughts wouldn't stop straying to the one topic she was now desperate to ignore. Eventually she'd made her excuses and headed back into the castle hoping a good night's sleep would clear her mind.

She walked down the darkened hallway on the fifth floor towards her rooms. Most of the guests that hadn't joined the sledding party had either retired or were still quietly conversing down in the Great Hall, so the castle had taken on that still emptiness that she'd so rarely had the chance to enjoy.

She was just passing the prefects bathroom when she heard the sound of footsteps rushing towards her.

She whirled around and saw Severus bearing down on her. Her heart leaped into her throat as he grabbed her arm, pulling her over to a tapestry and dragging her into the hidden corridor behind. As the tapestry fell back into place, they were left in utter darkness. Their heavy breaths were loud in the narrow space.

"Do you truly understand what you are asking for, Granger?" he hissed in a low voice.

A silvery light bloomed in the small passageway. It was a memory, stretching as it was pulled from his head. The twisting wisp hanging off the end of his wand reflected in glittering eyes that stared at her with a terrifying intensity.

"Yes. Yes I do. I know what we did. I have the echoes," she answered. "I know what you sound like when you reach your release, Severus. I know what pattern the scars on your chest make. I've drawn it out on scraps of paper. I know that there is a place, just between your chest and your shoulder that my head fits in as if God designed it to be that way." She heard his breath explode out of him, and he made a small, mewling noise of pain. "What I don't know is how this makes _you_ feel. Why I would have agreed to be Obliviated and allow you to keep your memories? That seems like a cruelty that is beyond me. I don't understand how we went from friends to lovers. _Were_ we lovers? Was it mutual? Did I push you into something that shamed you? Do you need me to leave here? Am I hurting you? I _know_ what I'm asking for, but there are too many holes. I need to know what happened."

The silver thread came closer to her face and she darted her head back in surprise.

"I need a pensieve," she blurted.

"No, you don't," he whispered.

"I can't put your memory directly inside my head, I would have a stroke! I'm trying to find answers, not commit suicide!" she hissed.

"I would never hurt you, Hermione." Her eyes slid closed at the sound of her name falling from his mouth. "This isn't my memory. It's yours."

Her eyes snapped open again. She looked from the glowing, curling strand to his eyes and understood.

"Oh, Severus," she said, raising a hand and stroking her fingers across his brow to smooth the lines of pain she saw. "What have you been doing to yourself?"

He didn't answer, just waited for her to accept what he had been carrying alone all this time. She closed her eyes and leaned forward and he settled the silver strand on her brow like a crown. The light faded away as the memories were reabsorbed.

Her mind was flooded with a jumble of images all at once. The hole in her memory filled in quickly and she blushed at the sudden knowledge of everything they had shared. She knew he had tried to be noble, but her need to touch that spark he hid inside himself overcame her reason and she'd not allowed him the chance. She understood that together they had shared something beyond explanations, beyond a physical release, beyond anything she had ever known before. She moaned as the echoes of his climax met the actual memory of his climax, and felt herself pulse in response again. She reeled when she saw she had left him with more memories. She relived the moment when she'd realized she was in love with him for the first time, sitting in the kitchen eating the food Viktor had provided. She'd torn it all from her mind in despair, and he had stolen it all and kept it.

When the memories had been fully restored, when the hole was completely filled, she realized there was something left over. Something he had inadvertently given her from his own mind after all. Not a memory, an echo of an emotion. He'd left behind a taste of just how desperately he loved her back and how much he'd needed this memory just to survive each day.

She started to cry. A great, gulping sob tore from her chest and she reached out to touch him, to assure him that she finally understood everything, but her hands only felt air. She pulled out her wand and cast a Lumos.

He was gone.

She blundered out from behind the tapestry and looked up and down the empty halls nearly blinded by her tears, only to find herself alone.

* * *

All your reviews are belong to us.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN:** Thank you to all my reviewers for being so patient (*snrk*) while my story played out. This chapter is for all of you...

* * *

Severus was still sitting in his leather chair by the fire when Lenore came out of the bedroom the next morning. She saw him and stopped. He must have looked a fright, from the expression on her face as she looked him over.

"Have you been sitting there all night? What's going on? Is something wrong?" she asked.

It was all in the tone of voice. There was no inflection that spoke of concern, just the possibility of annoyance or an inconvenient complication.

"She's here," he replied. He looked away and stared into the embers of the fire.

"Who's here? What are you talking ab—" Her voice cut off and she was deathly silent for a moment before her voice came back again, thin and hollow. "Oh. Oh, I see. Which one is it? That blonde from the Ministry? That editor from the Daily Prophet with the breasts that defy common sense?"

He didn't shift his eyes from the ashes of the fire, just shook his head sadly.

"What have you done, Severus?"

"Nothing." He turned and looked at her. "I haven't done anything. I only returned something that she'd left behind."

Lenore moved over to the sofa and sat down on the edge, her spine painfully erect and her hands clasped neatly in her lap.

"Don't do this to me," she pleaded in a restrained whisper.

"I _haven't_. I didn't. I don't want to!" he cried in anguish. "I made a vow. I made you a promise."

"But?"

"But…" He dragged a shaking hand through his hair. "She still cares. She still— " He moved out of the chair and stumbled across the room and fell at her feet. "Gods, Lenore! Tell me you love me. Tell me you can't live without me. Tell me anything! Lie to me! Give me what I need, because I'm weak and I will fail you if you don't." He clutched at the skirts of her robes and pressed them to his forehead. "Tell me why I should accept this life and refuse a chance at being loved. I've already done it once and it burns my gut as if I'd eaten fire." He looked up into her face. "I don't think I can let her go again."

Lenore lifted a hand to him and then dropped it back into her lap. "Nonsense. Of course you can. This is all just some pathetic little mid-life crisis. Honestly, Severus. Just look at you. It's classic. You've cut your hair, changed your style of dress—I bet she's a lot younger than you as well." She clicked her tongue and pushed him away before standing up and smoothing down her skirts. "What we share is safe. It's quiet and calm and safe. If you chase off after this woman you will destroy yourself. How can her feelings be honest? What kind of woman throws herself at a married man, I ask you? She will crush you and rob you of your dignity and then she will move on to the next man and destroy their life." She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder. "You have two hours until you have to show yourself at the Alumni match. Get yourself some rest, for Merlin's sake. You cannot expect to think clearly when you've let yourself get this overwrought."

Snape closed his eyes. She was right. He _couldn't _think straight. The rest of her words were certainly seductive, but they didn't ring true. He didn't know if he was desperate to believe them or desperate to reject them.

He struggled up off the floor where she'd left him.

"Get a grip on yourself, for pity's sake," she spat. "Have you no pride?"

He turned his head and looked at her. "No," he replied and walked into the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

* * *

Hermione was in hell. It was so close to time—a respectable time—when she could withdraw and not have it be seen as odd. She had already seen several people take their leave, midnight had come and gone, so just a little longer and she could slip away without drawing undue notice. She stared across the dance floor, head carefully facing away from where he sat with his wife and his peers—those fellow persons of high-esteem and respect. She wanted to cry as she watched all the happy couples dancing in the New Year.

She'd tried to beg off and leave after breakfast, complaining of feeling ill, but Poppy had dragged her to the hospital wing and dosed her with Pepperup and a Vitamin Draught and pronounced her good as new.

So she had stayed and gone through with the farce. She had cheered on Harry's team. Chattered through lunch, hiked in the snow, and tonight, she'd danced and smiled, and tried to make it all seem like frivolous merriment. She'd had failed miserably. Word had quietly spread amongst those she cared about, and no one pushed her, thinking her subdued state was due to her recent split.

How convenient. She felt like a fraud. Just being here made her feel like she was some kind of poisonous, evil taint on society. Viktor was right, she had turned into a horrible woman. She should _never _have come. Pandora had been a stupid, selfish bitch.

Only twice, in this long, grueling, cosmic joke of a day had they made eye contact, and both times had cut her so deeply she was shocked no one else could see the wound. Once had been during the Quidditch match, when the Snitch had flown between them. His eyes had scorched her before they slid away and had left her feeling desolate. The other was in the library doorway, when she'd turned around to find him right there, eyes boring into her as if she would disappear if he didn't memorize her features.

She'd fled.

She understood so much now. She understood why he had Obliviated her but not himself. He was trapped. Trapped by his own sense of honor and duty. Trapped by a vow he had taken willingly to a woman who was incapable of making him happy. After their afternoon together, he'd picked back up the pieces of his broken vow and had been holding them together as best he could. He wanted to do the right thing, but he couldn't completely let go of the thing he'd needed. She winced when she thought of how desperate he must have been to risk death to see her memory.

Her presence here must be torture for him. He'd probably come to terms with everything, perhaps even made peace with it, and then she had shown up and ripped open the wound. This might not have been an issue at all, if he'd gone along with his own plan and allowed her to Obliviate him as well. She wouldn't have seen his mask slip in the library. He wouldn't have left her that devastated moment to worry at like a sore tooth for months afterwards. If he'd kept his word, he might even have been more comfortable living in his trap.

Stupid Slytherins with their ridiculous need to make things unnecessarily complex…

She saw another knot of people head for the door. Turning to her friends, she finally picked up her handbag and made her excuses. She hugged those that wouldn't be at breakfast in the morning and made last minute promises to visit with others, and then, without turning her head even the slightest degree, she left the ball.

She made sure to stop and chat with those she saw in the halls as she went, hoping she made as relaxed and unremarkable an exit as possible.

She approached the door to her room and stopped.

Severus stood there, barely visible in the shadows in his black dress robes. She tried to look casual as she glanced around and confirmed they were alone. Her heart twisted painfully in her chest as she reached her door. He stepped closer to her and she shuddered at his nearness.

"Hermione," he whispered in her ear as she paused with her hand on the doorknob. "I _can't_." His voice was rough with pain.

"I know," she replied in a soft voice, looking down at her feet as her heart broke. "It's alright. We just need to get through tomorrow morning and I'll be gone. It will be easier then. I never meant to hurt you. I've been so stupid. I'm so sorry."

His hand came up and caressed her cheek and she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. She caught herself and pulled away, shoving open her door and rushing through before turning on him.

"Go, Severus" she begged quietly. "This isn't what you want."

He didn't reply, just nodded and stepped back, dropping his hand slowly to his side. She struggled to keep herself composed, but her face failed her as it screwed up into a pained rictus that she couldn't control.

She shoved the door closed with a bang and backed away, dropping her handbag and jamming her fist into her mouth to stop the pained sounds that wanted to escape. She backed up until she hit the post of her bed and then slid down it to the floor, straining to hear his receding footsteps through the thick door. She heard only her pained breaths break the silence.

When her pain couldn't be silenced any longer, she wrapped her arms around herself and howled. This hurt far more than the end of her marriage. She couldn't make sense of it, it was too much. She cried for her lost lover. She cried for her lost marriage. She cried for her lost innocence and the pain she'd lived through and had tried to forget for eight and a half years. She ended up on her knees, doubled over and crying harder than she could remember crying since she'd been a child.

She jumped and cried out when the door flew open and he filled her doorway. She nearly screamed with relief to see him there and she lifted her arms up to him like a beseeching child.

His face was a raw wound of torment, as he slammed the door behind him and raced across the room. He dropped to his knees before her and threw his arms around her, pressing her face against the scratchy fabric of his outer robes.

"You're wrong, Hermione. This _is_ what I want," he said in a hoarse voice. "You are _everything_ that I want," he admitted. "I never wanted to hurt you."

His words brought a fresh wave of grief, and she cried even harder, trying to force her reply out between hiccupping sobs. "Oh, gods, Severus! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I've made such a mess of everything!"

"No. It was me. I fouled up everything." He smoothed his hand down her back and kissed the top of her head. "Tell me I didn't ruin everything, Granger. Tell me what we did still means something to you."

She barked a harsh laugh and pushed back out of his arms to look him in the face.

"Oh, Severus. Don't you understand? You are everything I want as well. I destroyed my marriage because of a mere echo of what we shared. But this? This is hurting you! I can't hurt you any more than I already have. I should never have come. I don't know what to do." She clung to him and sobbed.

"I hurt myself, Hermione," he crooned to her as his hands stroked her back. "I was such a fool."

He hugged her tighter, his chest heaving as he nuzzled her face with his nose and started pressing kisses across her brow and cheek.

She tilted up her head and his lips found hers, his breath sweet against her face. His gentle kiss stole her strength. One, two, three more gentle kisses, each followed by a caress of his nose against hers or a brushing of his forehead against her own and then he stilled. His mouth hovered so close to her lips that she could feel his warmth and tell he had stopped breathing. She opened her eyes and saw his face filled with such need her heart wrenched in her chest.

She slid her arms around his chest and clutched at his back and with a ragged groan, he kissed her again. His hand tightened in her hair and he slid his tongue past her lips and tangled with her own. She felt as if she were floating as his kiss turned needy, demanding and passionate.

She lifted up on her knees and slid her hands into his hair, kneading at his scalp as she deepened the kiss. She answered his need with her own and tried to get closer to the essence of him—that spark that he hid from the world that had warmed her when she'd thought she would be cold forever. She wanted to fill her soul with him so they could never be separated.

One arm wrapped around her waist and the other gripped her nape as their kiss turned into a fiery, mutual claiming. They both groaned and opened up to each other. Their tongues dominating and then surrendering to the other in turn.

He tore his mouth away from hers and grabbed onto the bedpost, pulling her up along with him and then lifting her into his arms. He laid her gently on the bed and followed her down, laying along her side and scooping her back into his arms.

His head came down again and she reached up and grabbed him as they dove back into their kiss.

The sounds he made, the small groans that caught in his throat, the heavy breaths dragged in through his nose, sent the rest of the world away. She floated in a timeless place where there was nothing but this moment, this man, and this kiss.

She kicked her shoes off and slid her leg over his, urging him to shift. He rolled on top of her and her breath came out in a long husky sigh as she felt herself crushed to the bed by his weight. It made it seem real. Grounded her again.

She pulled him tight against her and kissed him back fiercely. He lifted up on his elbows and gripped her face in his hands, pulling away from her mouth with a gasp. He looked down on her and the open, raw, emotion on his face pulled at the deepest part of her heart.

"I love you," he said. "I don't think I could ever make you understand how much I love you. I was such a fool. I should never have let you leave."

"We did what we thought was right. We did what we thought we could live with," she said. "Oh, gods, Severus, I've fallen in love with you twice already. If you were to take this away from me again, I think I just would fall in love with you again. My heart remembered what my mind forgot."

He kissed her hard and then pulled away again, shifting his weight off of her. "I would never do that to you again. I might as well tear my own heart out. I _can't _do it again, do you understand? I can't let you go again."

She reached up and stroked her fingers down the side of his face.

"This time, we try it my way. Your way was a disaster."

He quirked a sour smile. "Agreed."

She pulled him back down and kissed him again and she heard the twin thunks of his boots hitting the floor, before he wrapped himself around her and kissed her like he was afraid he would lose her if he stopped.

She felt his excitement pressing against her hips and she pulled him back on top of her and brought her hands down and gripped his hips, pressing him against her. Her legs caught in the skirts of her gown, and he lifted up and started pulling at them.

"Hermione," he whispered against her cheek. "I need you. Oh, gods, I need you…"

"I'm here. I'm yours," she answered.

He kissed her violently as he clawed at her skirts, pulling them up her legs. She grabbed at his dress robes, pulling apart his outer robe and making short work of the inner. She fumbled with the placket of his trousers, crying out as she felt his hand cup her sex through her knickers. He kissed her again as she finally opened his trousers and when she reached in and grabbed his length, he lifted his head up and cried out.

"_Fuck_," he moaned, making her belly twist around in pleasure. "_Hermione_…" Her name came out in a long, drawn out growl. She felt him start to tremble and knew he wouldn't last much longer. She wanted to make him come—wanted to watch as he spilled himself, but not this time. She wanted to feel him fill her more.

She pulled her hand away and shifted to get her knickers off as he tugged off his robes and pulled out his wand to cast a contraceptive charm. She pulled her dress over her head, unsnapped her bra, and threw them to the floor. He went still as she ran her hands across the warm, silky hair of his chest, and traced the scars she'd come to love. She looked up and met his eyes.

"No more foreplay," she said. She'd tried for playful, but it came out as pleading.

He brought his head down until his forehead rested against hers and whispered, "I love you, Hermione. I love you so much."

She smiled, as her eyes filled with tears. "Thank all the gods that you do," she replied earnestly.

He gently stroked her sex, but she was too impatient. She reached down and grasped him, angling him towards where she wanted him, and he chuffed out a breath.

"I love you, too," she whispered.

She felt the surge of blood that made him swell even more and looked up to see his eyes glittering with intensity.

"Say it again," he demanded.

"I love you. I _need _you, Severus. I want to feel you inside of me. I need to feel like we're one."

His face dissolved into pure lust as he slid inside of her. They both let their breath out in a duet of ragged exhalations as they merged together. They moved together smoothly, quickly finding their rhythm. She urged him on, deeper, faster, until they were lost. His mouth crashed down on hers and she sucked at his lips and cried out from the onslaught as he took possession of her body, controlling her very breathing with his passion.

"Is this what you want?" he cried, when he'd pulled away. "Tell me you needed this from me!"

"Yes! _Yes!_"

"Why, Hermione? _Why do you love me?_" he demanded, as he pushed into her again and again.

Her eyes flew open, and she stared into his pleading face in confusion. "What's not to love? You're perfect to me. Oh gods, right there!"

His face broke into a beautiful smile and kept himself angled _right there _until she gasped and blew apart, screaming his name.

He straightened his arms, pushing himself up and throwing his head back, as he drove his need into her. His face contorted into an almost frightening mask and then he twisted his head until he was looking down on her.

"Oh gods!" he cried. "Oh _gods… It's_ _so beautiful_…" He pushed himself in as far as he could go. She watched as his eyes rolled up in his head and the whole bed shook as his body shuddered and jerked above her.

She pulled him down gently until he was cradled in her arms, he shifted slightly and tucked his head under her chin.

"My Severus," she said softly.

She felt a tear run down her collarbone and realized he was crying silently. His arm came up and he stroked her breast gently.

She folded the edges of the blankets over them like a cocoon to ward off the chill and tangled her legs with his until they could get no closer.

She stroked his hair back from his face and murmured, "I love you because you are strong and honorable and incredibly intelligent. I love your sense of humor, your gentleness, your selflessness and your patience. I find you very mesmerizing. You're eyes are beautiful. I love the way you look at me. I also love your protectiveness. I know you need to protect Lenore. I know she has a claim on you that you can't walk away from. I am happy with what you can give me, Severus. I ask for nothing more."

"No," he said in a husky voice. His head snuggled deeper into her neck. "I will not give you leftovers, Hermione. I will not just take you as a mistress. You deserve a man who will make sacrifices for _you_. You decide what you want out of life. I will give it to you. It's time you made demands, Hermione. You deserve that much. Just promise me, when my life turns inside out, that I will still be able to rest here in your arms."

"Always," she promised. "But it hardly seems equal. I need equality, a partner. It's time you made demands as well. What do you need from me?"

He stirred and slowly uncoiled until he pushed himself up and looked down on her. "Children," he said. "I want a child of my own."

She smiled, her heart soaring. "Absolutely."

He looked at her with a hundred thoughts chasing across his features and then leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips. He pulled back and his lips quirked. "And I might need your patience while I figure out just how to fix the mess I've made of everything."

She winced and said, "Take all the time you need. It _is_ a rather complicated mess."

"Indeed," he said laying his head back down on her breast. "One that I took great pains to create."

She stroked his hair back from his face and hugged his head to her heart.

* * *

Lenore was still sitting on the sofa when he returned to their living quarters just before dawn.

"Where the hell were you all night?" Lenore demanded, as she bore down on him, when he entered the room.

"You know where I was," he replied. "Why ask the obvious? If you had suspected anything else, including my demise, you'd have gone to bed."

Her face twisted into a furious glower and she tried to slap him. He caught her wrist and glared.

"Never again, Lenore," he said, with quiet menace.

"You pathetic bastard!" she screamed. "You just couldn't keep it under your robes, could you? You had to go make a fool of yourself with the first whore that pretended she wasn't disgusted with your ugly face, didn't you?"

He sneered at her and pushed her arm away from him. "That honor was all yours, my dear."

Lenore sputtered, before backing away and collapsing onto the sofa. "You said you wouldn't," she said sadly.

He sat down in the chair and rested his elbows on his knees. "I'm sorry, Lenore."

"I thought your word meant something."

"Yes, well, that was mutual. I thought yours did as well."

Her head came up. "What are you implying?"

"I was a Potions master, Lenore. I have access to the means to make sure I was, in fact, fertile, as are you. Do you really think to insult my intelligence? I know you've been ensuring our ongoing failure. It only took me so long to figure it out because I trusted you." There was no anger in his voice. He honestly didn't feel any. "So where does that leave us? You think I'm ugly and unlovable, we're both incapable of keeping our word on the only promises we've ever made each other. We used to at least respect each other, but that seems to have ended when neither of us were paying attention. My only use to you will soon come to an end anyway, so why should we go on?"

"What do you mean, 'come to an end?'" she asked.

"I'm resigning my position at the end of the term."

"Why in the name of all the gods would you do that?"

"Because the Ministry frowns upon Headmasters that take up with women twenty years their junior."

"Severus, _don't. _You're making a mistake! Mother of Mercy, look at yourself! Can you not see how much of a fool you're being?"

"Nevertheless, it's my mistake to make. I might feel worse if I thought you actually cared for me at all. In fact, there never would have been an issue if you had cared for me in the slightest manner. I grew _lonely_, Lenore. I would have been happy if it had been you taking up all my thoughts, like it was in the beginning. Instead, you've made it more than obvious that you actually loathe everything about me accept my position and lifestyle.

"The feeling is not mutual. I actually still care for you a great deal. _She_ understands this and is willing to wait as long as it takes. We've agreed to not see each other again until you and I are done. Therefore, I shall not do anything rash, and I will do my best to avoid as much scandal as possible. I shall help you find a living arrangement that suits and help you in any other way I can. But I will not share your bed any longer, I will not tolerate your constant aspersions on my _pathetic_ character, and I will not stay past the end of term in six months. Is that clear?"

She looked at him and fat tears started to roll out of her eyes.

"What if I don't _want_ to go?" she cried.

He was stunned.

"Why the hell would you want to stay? Answer me that! After all these years. Lenore, I deserve an answer to that!"

Her lip trembled and she struggled not to fall apart. He surged out of the chair onto his knees before her, and went to wrap his arms around her but she stiffened up and pushed him away.

He sat back on his heels and ripped his hands through his hair.

"Why the fuck would you want to be with me?" he yelled. "You won't even let me comfort you!"

"Because you were safe!" she screamed. "Because you _knew_ what they did to me! I didn't have to explain it! They'd done as much to _you_! I didn't ever have to talk about it! You were the only one that never hurt me! That never allowed them to hurt me when you were there." She burst into ugly hiccupping sobs and began to rock. "You were the only one that wasn't there when they killed Julius."

Severus closed his eyes and shook his head before moving to sit next to her on the couch. He pulled her into his arms. She struggled, but he wouldn't relent. She finally ended up a stiff lump leaning against his chest while he rubbed his hand in circles on her shoulder. Slowly she relaxed until she was lying bonelessly in his arms, moaning 'they killed him,' over and over.

He let her cry, just murmuring soft words to her until eventually she settled.

"I'm sorry, Lenore," he said gently. "I'm sorry he's dead. I won't lecture you on how it's past time you moved on, only you can decide that, but it is past time that you stopped using me to hurt yourself."

She pushed back and looked at him with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I was never safe," he said, as he ripped his sleeve up his arm, scattering the buttons on his cuff. "I had this. It was never going to go away. You found the one person left that you could torture yourself with for over _eight years_. You didn't find a sanctuary, Lenore, you found a prison, so you would never heal and risk betraying your love for Julius." He let his arm drop. "I won't be that anymore. I can't. I deserve more, and you deserve to be happy. I thought I could give you that, and I tried. But this last year has shown me that you would have been much happier on your own. For some reason, you needed me to make you miserable.

"What we share isn't a marriage. It isn't even convenient. There's no respect, there's no pleasure. What we share has become warped and poisoned, and I was blind enough to think bringing a child into our world was going to somehow make it better for me."

"I didn't know how to make you see that," she said.

"I know. I'm relieved you did what you did, although it hurt."

She sighed and leaned back and rested her head against the back of the sofa.

"A child doesn't understand why its mother doesn't love them," she said. "I didn't want—" Her shoulders slumped and she looked down at her hands and slowly shook her head from side to side. "You would be a _good_ father, Severus. It's me. I'm toxic. I'm afraid I would ruin a child's life. You couldn't make up for my lack."

He grimaced in pain and lifted her hand and held it to his chest. "Why do you think you wouldn't love your own child? You have such a way with children like the Zimmings twins, and all the others you go to bed worried about. You have such kindness hiding inside of you, Lenore. It's what drew me to you in the first place."

Tears started to slide down her face and he stroked one away with his thumb. She flinched, but caught herself and looked at him with frustrated despair.

"I don't want to love. I don't want to love you, and I don't want to love a child. Taking care of those others is a duty. I don't have to love them; there are others that can do that. That night we made love, you made me feel something I hadn't felt in years. I wanted to _kill_ you for it. What would I be capable of with a defenseless child that made me feel?" She looked at their hands. "I didn't intend to deceive you. I wanted to give you what you asked for. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized what an awful thing it was we were doing and I didn't think you were able to see it."

He pulled her to him, again she resisted, but eventually she pressed against his side.

"You have always been stronger than you realized, Lenore. You've always cared and you've always been capable of love. You say you don't have to love the children you take care of, but you're wrong. You simply found a way to express it on your own terms. I think you're tired of this as much as I am, but you're just far more terrified at the prospect of change than I."

She didn't answer right away. She just softened against his side.

"You're right about me being more terrified," she said finally, "but you were wrong about me not caring about you. It was watching you become more and more unhappy that made me realize I did love you. I… didn't handle it very well. I _can't_ love you, Severus. I cannot give you what you need. You remind me of everything that is terrible. You remind me of Julius, and you remind me of those that slaughtered him in front of me."

"I know," he said gently. "I also know that you are ready to love again. You're stronger than you were. This isn't enough for you anymore. It's not enough for me. We gave each other what we needed for a while, but it's time to move on."

She turned and pressed her face into his chest, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'm frightened," she said.

"I will help you. There's no hurry. We'll take this slowly."

She started to sob again and he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

He stayed with her like that for hours.

A Patronus to Minerva telling her of Lenore's sudden illness ensured they were not disturbed and their guests were seen off with proper fanfare. He'd already said his goodbyes to the only other person he cared about.

Eventually, he felt her weight shift and knew she'd finally fallen asleep. He scooped her up into his arms and carried his broken wife to bed and laid down next to her for the last time.

* * *

Ta da!

Next up: Happily ever after.

Just like I promised.

Reviews make my world a happy place.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: ** Many Many Manythanks got to my fine beta team, **astopperindeath**, **Dressagegrrrl** and **Hebe GB**. They worked hard and fast to help get this up, and they also got to listen to me whine, and offered me advice all the way up to five minutes ago. Seriously.

* * *

"Well then," Lenore said as the last of her bags were being loaded onto the Thestral carriage. "I find that even with six months notice and our tragically ironic version of marital counseling, I'm still without words to say, now that the moment has arrived."

"It's mutual," Severus replied.

Lenore stuck her hand out, and he eyed it sadly, before he encased it in both of his own.

"Everything that we wanted to say has been said, Severus, but let me just say again that I am sorry. For everything," she raised a hand before he could speak, "and I thank you. For everything. Now, go on, I'm anxious to leave, now that the last of the students are gone. I must make sure that I am unpacked in time for the Zimmings girls to arrive for dinner. I won't feel comfortable until I hear whether their father actually stayed sober like his letters said he had."

She adjusted her hat and smoothed down her elegant cloak before lifting her head and looking him with a crease of sadness on her brow. "Be happy, Severus. I need you to be happy."

"And you as well, Lenore," he replied solemnly.

He helped her up into the carriage and stayed to watch as it took off down the drive and around the bend. She never looked back.

He finally turned and headed back up through the nearly deserted castle to the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore's portrait was empty and the other headmasters had already started their summer-long nap, as he sat down behind the desk and took out the ledgers. He wanted to finish all of the accounting before Minerva took over the following morning.

He desperately wanted to smoke. He'd quit at New Year's, his first ever resolution, but there were still times and places where it seemed just the thing he wanted to do most. It put him in a grumpy mood when he heard the spiral stairs start to move.

The door opened and Minerva walked in.

"A little birdie told me that you might need help in vacating my new chair," she said.

Severus just raised his brow and then turned to see Albus 'asleep' in his frame again.

"I will be perfectly willing to give you this chair when I have finished my—"

"You _are_ finished, Severus," she said, walking slowly around the office and staring at the empty shelves. "I won't claim to understand everything that has been going on over the last six months, but I have been watching you.

"I thought you'd lost your mind when you announced that you were resigning. You're leadership is what brought this school back from the edge during the darkest moment in its history. I thought for sure, a man as young as yourself would go on to create a legend in that chair. When Lenore told me that the two of you were splitting up at the end of the year, I was worried. No, before you ask, I've not told a soul. I know how private you are." She walked over to the door and lifted his cloak off the peg.

"I've been watching you, my boy. I expected to see even silent suffering, I know you've been unhappy these last years, but instead, I've seen something utterly new. Silent happiness. I've never seen you look so at peace, before. Ever.

"Now this little birdie tells me that the source of that happiness is waiting for you, but you won't budge until you run out of things to settle for me. Well, I'm a big girl, dear, and have been the Deputy Head for longer than you've been tall. So, I will say it plainly. Get out, Severus. Get out of my office. I've already ordered you another carriage."

Severus glared at her and then swung his head and looked behind him at his sleeping mentor. He looked back at his quill and sighed.

"Very well." He dropped it into the ink and closed the ledger. Standing, he turned and opened the secret compartment behind his desk and pulled out a large, and ornately carved key.

"Gibby," he called.

The elf appeared, with a pop.

"Please take all of my things down to the front steps." Before the elf could leave, Severus reached out and stroked a finger down one of the elf's ears. "And thank you, for everything you have done for me. Take good care of Minerva for me."

The little elf looked at him with misty eyes and nodded before disappearing with a surprisingly loud pop.

He placed the key he had been holding on the desk in front of him and tapped it with his wand, carefully enunciating as he performed the ritual to transfer his authority. The both of them felt the magic shudder around them as he dropped the wards of the school, relinquishing his duties.

Minerva stepped forward and reversed the magic and the small hairs on their necks rose as the wards were reinstated.

"And that is that," he said in a dry voice.

"It has been an honor to serve under you, Severus."

He smiled, shyly. "I will always be available if you have any questions or need any advice from someone not stuck to a wall," he said with a smirk.

"I shall take full advantage of the offer," she said, with a smile. "Where are you going? I know you sold your parents house years ago."

"I'll be living outside of Thornham, in Norfolk," he replied.

"Oh! What luck! You'll have a neighbor! Our Hermione lives in that area as well! Did you know she's been doing great things with damage from Memory Charms over at St. Mungo's? She's got quite the career ahead of her! You should look her up. She'll be a lovely neighbor to have. You two have a lot in common."

Severus just raised his eyes and looked at Minerva, and if he hadn't been so nervous, he would have laughed. When understanding dawned, she looked like she wanted to swallow her face.

"Oh," she said. "So that's the way of it." Minerva began to smile broadly and nod her head. "I can see that. I surely can," she said. "Does anyone else know?"

"Not the who, no. No one living anyway," he said, with another sneer at the portrait behind the desk.

"I can hold my tongue," she said.

"Once you sit in that chair, you will find you have a lot more reasons to than my small secret. Just remember, you are never alone, and you will never truly have privacy from this lot." He waved a hand at the tapestry and then the walls.

He turned to the portrait on the wall behind the desk and said, "Good bye, Albus. I shall miss you."

Albus lifted his head and smiled warmly. "Go be happy, Severus. You have put it off far too long."

"Honestly, the students only left this morning. Tomorrow wouldn't have been that bad."

"Term might have ended today, Severus," the portrait said, "but, the war ended nine years ago. You've not been happy in all that time, you've only existed. Whereas you devoted yourself to making other people's lives better, you never bothered to do the same for yourself. It's time, my boy. It's time."

* * *

Severus winced as the Knight Bus came to a screeching halt outside of a little cottage near the sea. His bags and trunks bounced off his Shielding Charm and slammed into the wall next to him.

He looked out at the tiny thatched-roof cottage, with its curtains lit warmly from within. It had trimmed hedges and a neat yard, with a small Muggle car in the driveway.

He felt his gut clench even tighter than it had been for the last hour and a half.

He hadn't sent her a message. He was afraid to. Now that the hour was upon him, he was terrified that something would go wrong. Fate was cruel, and Severus Snape had been her whipping boy for far too long.

"Off you go now," the conductor said, as he heaved both of his trunks up onto his massive shoulders. Severus picked up his two bags and followed him through the sleeping passengers and stepped off the bus. He turned to thank the conductor, but found the doors had already closed with the bus zipping out of sight in an instant.

He looked at the cottage and frowned.

Severus and Hermione had agreed that what they'd shared would not suffer from time apart, and they had actually seen very little of each other since New Year's, only meeting twice at The Leaky Cauldron.

He'd wanted to give Lenore the respect she deserved and deal with the end of their relationship, without sneaking off to see his mistress every weekend. He'd also had his hands full showing Minerva the ropes, on top of seeing the school through their exams, and the usual trivial minutia involved in the end of the year.

Hermione had also been very busy starting her new career and he didn't want to be a distraction. She'd taken to her field of study like a duck to water, and had immersed herself in her studies to the point of obsession.

They'd written to each other every day, and their infrequent visits had always been islands of tranquility and affirmation in a sea of chaos, stress, and doubt.

But now he was here. It was real. He was committed to this woman but could not bring himself to set aside the niggling fear that she might have come to her senses. He was terrified that there time apart had made her change her mind.

He felt like a fool, standing on the path with all of his worldly goods at his feet. Where would he go if she turned him away?

He took a deep breath and set his shoulders. He Levitated his belongings and they floated after him as he made his way to the door.

He raised his hand to knock just as the door was whipped open.

She was dressed as a Muggle and stood there with her car keys in one hand, and her wand in the other. Her beautiful face reflected first surprise and then shock. They just stared at each other.

"I couldn't wait any longer," he finally said, running a nervous hand through his hair. "I hope you don't mind. Were you going somewhere?"

As if his words released a coiled spring, she launched herself at him. His eyes widened, but he caught her and turned, letting her momentum spin them in a circle, before he pulled her close and hugged her.

"Hello, Hermione," he whispered into her hair.

"Welcome home, Severus," she cried into his robes.

"Home," he said with a sigh. He set her back down and repeated his question. "Were you on your way out?"

She gave him a shaky laugh, as she clung to him. "I was just going to go out and drive in circles. It helps clear my mind. I've been going crazy waiting for tomorrow. I didn't think I was going to ever get through this night. And now you're here!" She hugged him tighter, and he could feel the moisture from her tears as they soaked through his robes. "Gods, you're finally here."

He wrapped his arms around her and rested his head on top of her wild curls. "Yes. I'm finally here. I'm finally home."

* * *

Severus Snape looked down upon the woman he loved and felt his heart constrict at the sight of her.

She'd welcomed him with tears and a shower of affection and enthusiastically showed him all the places she had prepared for him—the shelves and cupboards, and the room she had set aside to be his office. She'd helped him unpack his things, and never moved more than a foot away from him the whole time, as if she feared he would disappear if she moved too far away.

He listened in fascinated enjoyment, as she chattered on excitedly about her research and the people in her department. He was tremendously proud of her work, and took great pains to tell her so.

She had been thrilled for him when he told her about starting his new job in a week, while they had relaxed with tea and biscuits in the sitting room. From what he didn't say, she'd quickly caught on that he was now an Unspeakable, and she had immediately peppered him with a thousand questions that she knew he couldn't answer.

He'd never felt so happy in his life.

Now she was in his arms again, naked, and open, and so incredibly giving that he thought he would burst from the joy.

He leaned down and kissed her again, knowing he would never get enough of her, while he thrust into her slowly, just to hear her tell him she wanted more. His thoughts repeated over and over in his mind. _She wants me. She needs me. She loves me_.

Gods, she was beautiful. His entire life had been spent searching for this moment in time. This magical place where he was complete. He would devote the rest of his life to making her happy as well.

Her cries became demands and he met them willingly, increasing his pace and changing the rhythm until the entire bed shook as she screamed and he groaned. When he felt her inner warmth pulling at him, shivering around him as she climaxed, he gasped and felt his own release wrenched away from his control. He came with a ragged moan and she pulled him down on top of her and held him close. He let her simply hold him, cherishing the sensation of feeling welcomed in her arms, and kissed her sweat-drenched neck. He rolled off of her and pulled her with him until they were tucked together like puzzle pieces.

"Gods, I love you, Severus," she said, resting her head against his shoulder.

"As I love you," he replied breathlessly.

"Nothing has felt right without you these long months. I know that makes me sound like some pathetic woman who can't live without a man, but that's not it at all. It's not that I need you, it's more like you're a wonderful gift that I haven't been able to open for six months. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense," he answered.

"I have this irrational fear that you will disappear. That I will wake up in the morning and find it was just another one of my dreams. I'm afraid you will have to put up with a clingy woman for the next few days, while I adjust to the fact that I get to keep you after all."

"I have a week, before I have to start my new job. I can spend every moment making it real for you," he murmured. "Besides, if you think I'm going to mind having a beautiful woman want to be with me every moment of the day, you have a rather inflated idea of my ego."

He stroked his hand up the curve of her hip and along her waist, until he palmed her breast, and was shocked at the sexual thrill it called up, even as he was still recovering. She leaned up and kissed him, a simple kiss that turned into a lingering exploration, and he closed his eyes as she nibbled on his lips and explored his mouth leisurely. He started to stroke and tweak at her nipple again, for no other reason than he could, and when she sighed and pushed her breast deeper into his hand, he pushed her back and leaned his head down to kiss and lick and suckle them.

Never in his life had he experienced this kind of slow lovemaking, so he took his time and gauged each and every sigh or shudder. His was only aware of the sound of her breathing and her soft cries of pleasure as he slid his hands down between her legs and started to fondle her again. There was no urgency this time, just an exploration of her body and her limits.

He slid his fingers inside her while thrumming her nub with his thumb. He smirked when he made her come again, while he bit and sucked on the pulse point in her neck. He leaned up and kissed her lips again, pulling her against his side.

"A girl could get used to that," she said, in a dreamy voice.

"You should go ahead and plan on getting used to that," he quipped.

She snuggled against him with a giggle and kissed his chest, but instead of settling down for sleep, she shifted and continued to kiss him as she made her way down to his mostly flaccid cock. He wanted to tell her it was useless, but she seemed not to care. His breath blew out of him in a groan, as she sucked him completely into her mouth.

His eyes fluttered shut as he felt himself harden again and she backed up and gave him a devilish smile. He sighed as she pushed his legs father apart and laved his sack while stroking his now hard length. She slid her warm mouth onto him again and proceeded to pleasure him methodically. He couldn't help thrusting up into her mouth.

What had started as a way to confirm their love, and then shifted to an exploration, had now descended into the realm of carnal fantasy. His mind was filled with a thousand and one things he wanted to do to her, noises he wanted to hear from her, acts he wondered if she would be willing to allow.

He swept her hair out of her face and gathered it into a loose fist and watched her.

It was her own moaning that made him start to slide over the edge. The look on her face as she licked him and stroked him with her hand was the most erotic thing he had ever seen, but when she moaned, when he felt her pleasure vibrate to his core, he knew she _liked_ it. She wasn't just trying to please him, she _enjoyed_ pleasing him. His climax rushed up so fast he barely had time to gasp out a warning and try to lift her head away, but she sank her mouth down farther. He felt himself lodge in her throat as he blew apart, emptying himself into her mouth with a shout.

He felt completely boneless as she slid back up his body and tucked herself up next to him, with her head resting just where his chest met his shoulder as if the hollow had been carved solely for her.

"Oh, Hermione," he gasped. "I can't tell you what I feel right now. There just aren't the words."

She slid her arm across his chest and hugged him. "You deserve to be loved," she reiterated firmly. "I will spend the rest of my life loving you, Severus."

He wrapped his arms tight around her and whispered, "Thank you."

* * *

"This is your fault!" she screamed, through the tears and pain.

"You knew it would end like this, Hermione. You knew what we were getting into better than I did," Severus said, his face twisted with guilt and remorse.

"I hate you! I hate this! I don't want this anymore!"

"Now you are just being foolish," he said, scowling at her, as her words and her nails drew blood.

"Fuck you! _Fuck you_, Severus! And fuck this hospital! And fuck you too, you arse-faced shitting cunt!" she screamed at the Midwitch.

Severus's eyebrows shot straight up. "Now _that_ was a worthy effort," he said with admiration and pride. "No more of this tiny toe-nail shite, you usually spout."

"Go fuck yourself, you bastard!"

"A bit less yelling and a bit more pushing please," said the placid Midwitch. "Ready? Now, push, push, push!"

Severus winced as her nails sank into the palm of his hand again, as he leaned over and tried to force his own strength into his small wife. They'd been at it for hours and he thought he would lose his mind if this little brat didn't come out soon.

He'd utterly reversed his opinion on bringing children into the world in these last few months as he watched his wife struggle with the constant aches and pains and humiliations that pregnancy brought. Of course, it was a little late now.

She sank back onto the bed, exhausted and weary. Her face was waxy and her eyes were sunken into her skull with dark grey circles. He chaffed her hands and was horrified when she simply started to cry.

"I can't, Severus," she said in a small voice that tore his heart into pieces.

"You can," he said. "You're strong, Hermione. You can do anything." She didn't respond, she just tilted her head at him and blinked as the tears ran down her face. "Don't give up, Hermione. I need you to be strong now. Just a little longer and then you're done. I will do all the rest; I promise."

"Alright, dear. Last one, lets get this little one out here where we can see," said the Midwitch. "And… _push_. That's it, strong for me now."

"Push, Hermione," he urged, as his wife's scream echoed throughout the room.

"Easy! Okay, and pant, pant, little more, little more and _there we are_!"

Severus looked over to see a furious-looking infant with a shock of slimy black hair.

"Well, she's got my scowl," he quipped.

"A _girl? _Let me see!" cried Hermione, reaching for the baby as the Midwitch wrapped her up and placed her on her mother's belly.

Severus cut the cord quickly, finding the ritual a silly distraction, before returning his attention to his wife and daughter. They were perfect. Life was perfect. He ran his fingers down the baby's tiny nose and said a silent prayer that it was her mother's and not her father's, then he leaned in and kissed his beautiful wife on her forehead.

"Thank you," he said.

"It was nothing," she replied, with an impish smile and tired eyes.

"It was _everything_," he replied.

The Midwitch fussed about, casting healing spells as a nurse came over and cast diagnostic spells over the baby.

"What's her name?" asked the nurse.

Severus looked at Hermione and waited. He'd left the decision up to her, seeing as she was the one suffering, and she'd imperiously vetoed his choices early on.

"Hope," she said. "Her name is Hope."

* * *

The ward on the house chimed softly and Hermione quickly closed the bedroom door and hurried to answer it before it chimed again and woke the baby. She opened the door and couldn't hide her shock at finding Lenore Snape on her doorstep. Lenore didn't look any more comfortable.

"I came by to offer my congratulations," she explained. "I read about the birth in the papers. If this is a bad time…"

"Please, come in!" Hermione said, pulling the door open wide.

"I know this is rather awkward, but I wanted to give you something for the baby," she said, thrusting out a package. "I picked them out myself," she added nervously.

"Thank you," Hermione said, taking the package, tastefully wrapped in silver paper with tiny pink swans all over it. "I was about to make tea; would you like some?"

"No, thank you. I don't want to be a bother. Shouldn't you be resting? At least sit down." Lenore pulled a chair out from their dining table and pointed to it. Hermione sat, and Lenore sat across from her nervously playing with her perfectly manicured nails. The ensuing silence was agonizing.

"Shall I open it now?" Hermione finally asked, lifting the package.

"Please. I do hope they're useful. I can return them if you already have too many, don't be afraid to ask."

Hermione carefully opened the package and lifted the lid on the box. She pulled out a miniature set of shell pink robes. There were three more sets in the box, in lavender, deep rose, and butter yellow. "Oh, my, they're beautiful. Thank you Madame Snape."

The older woman made a face. "Call me Lenore. This is awkward enough."

Hermione saw a glimmer of humor on the other woman's face and smiled. "Then you must call me Hermione."

"As you wish." She pointed at the tiny outfit. "The robes are spelled. They resist dirt and stains and they expand to a larger size with a charm. The incantation is on the tag. They're good for two years. There's a warranty, you mustn't lose that. A friend assures me they actually last a lot longer than that if properly laundered."

"I don't think she has anything nearly as lovely as this. Thank you," Hermione said as she laid the robes aside.

A heavy silence descended again, and Hermione took a deep breath. "I know it's been over a year now, but I also want to thank you for what you did for us in the papers after we got married. That was an unexpected but very welcome and generous thing you did."

"You mean my interview? Think nothing of it. I felt I had to. They had painted Severus as such a fool after the press found out about the two of you. Your ex-husband's awful interview angered me. How could he say that you had split amicably and then say those dreadful things?"

"Viktor only ever sees what he wants to see, and if that includes making things up, well…" She ran her hand through her hair and turned to Lenore. "_You_ know Severus and I didn't carry out some drawn out, torrid affair behind your back while I was working there, don't you?"

"I do. Severus told me everything, Hermione, except the who. I had no idea who you were until it hit the papers. He was intensely protective of you. However, he was bluntly honest about everything else in our sessions with the counselor. I know you didn't come bursting in and destroy our marriage. Severus would never have strayed if we hadn't already broken it beyond repair. We were miserable. We just had trouble seeing that until you came along. That's why I could refute Mr. Krum's ridiculous allegations with good conscience. I thought it smacked of attention seeking, and I disliked the idea of him using my life to get another groupie into the sack out of pity. I'm glad it helped. It certainly died down fast enough. I haven't read a thing about it in the birth announcements."

"Thank you. It means a lot to me that you know the truth. It was painful enough without being as tawdry as he made it out to be. I never wanted to hurt anyone. You are a very gracious person to come here as you've done."

"I… needed the closure," Lenore said to her hands. "Severus always wanted a child, and when I heard you had given birth, I guess I wanted to… I don't know if I can find the words. I was happy for him. I wanted to do something to show him that. I have no living family left and to be honest, I felt a bit… familial." She grimaced and gave a self-conscious little laugh. "I know that sounds a bit creepy, but don't worry. I won't be making a habit of popping in unannounced. I've just been trying to work on whimsy lately. I thought I would kill two birds with one stone, so-to-speak."

Hermione laughed and folded the robes.

"Would you like to see her? I can bring her out, she's due to wake up soon anyway."

"I would," Lenore replied, with a small smile.

Hermione bounced up with a bigger smile and pushed open the bedroom door gently. She walked quietly over to the bed and leaned down to carefully pick up the baby.

"_Don't_." whispered a voice in the doorway. Hermione turned, and saw Lenore had followed her across the kitchen and was staring hard at the bed, where Severus was sleeping deeply with Hope cradled to his chest, with her fist stuffed into her mouth.

There were tears in Lenore's eyes. "Leave them be," she said softly.

Hermione stepped away and joined Lenore back in the kitchen, closing the door silently behind her.

"There can only be a few moments like that before they are too big," Lenore said. "It would be a sin to disturb them. Besides, I've seen enough. She's beautiful, and he's obviously happy. He could never sleep that deeply before. He would have hexed anyone that moved that quietly before he even woke up."

She reached into her pocket and pulled something out. Taking Hermione's hand, she poured a tinkling silver chain into it. Hermione saw a small, crystal Unicorn charm dangling off it. "This is for the baby when she grows up, from her creepy Aunt Lenore."

Hermione held up the chain, listening to the soft music it made as the chain moved. "This is Goblin made," she said with awe.

"I want her to have it."

Hermione's eyes grew wide. "But surely…"

"No. I won't be having any children. I don't think I will ever change my mind on that. I'm very content with my life as it is. If I ever feel a pang for lack of a baby of my own, I will just send you more clothes. Let's just leave it at that, shall we?"

They both turned at the muffled cry from the other room.

"I should go. You have a family to take care of now."

"Thank you so much for the gifts. I am very glad you stopped by."

Lenore gave her a small smile and walked to the door. She turned back to say something but stopped and stared at the man in the bedroom doorway holding a tiny infant to his shoulder.

"Lenore," he said. "You're looking well."

She nodded her acknowledgement. "You also," she said. "Congratulations, Severus. I just popped in for a moment to wish you well, and now I must be off. Hermione, take care of yourself. I am glad I stopped by."

With that, she left.

Hermione waved to her from the doorway as she Disapparated.

She turned back to the kitchen and walked over to take the baby from Severus, who was inspecting the new robes for Dark magic or Curses. He'd done the same to all the baby's gifts.

"Really, Severus. You take this protective father thing too far sometimes."

He handed over his daughter with care. "I admit in hindsight I might have been a little rude to do so in front of Molly and Arthur, but I've often had good reason to be paranoid, Hermione. It has served me well in the past, and just because my damaged ex-wife appears to have accepted our happiness with a gracious gift, there is no guarantee of that. More often than not, if it seems too good to be true, then likely it is."

Hermione arched her eyebrows in questioning challenge, and he smirked, realizing his error, his demeanor softening.

"Except you, my dear. You simply are too good to be true."

"Thank you. And since you put it like that. Here. Check this too." She lifted up the necklace, as Severus's eyes grew wide. He took it from her with care.

"This was hers."

"I know. She said she wanted Hope to have it when she grew up a bit."

"You don't understand. Julius gave it to her. She never took it off."

"Oh," Hermione said softly.

"I'm not sure I want my daughter to have this," he said, when he finished checking it.

Hermione snatched it out of his hand.

"It's not just about you," she said. "It was given to Lenore with love, and I suspect she gave it to Hope with at least a desire for fondness. I'll put it away and we'll discuss it again in a decade or so." Hope started to squirm and root around, and Hermione wandered back into the bedroom, unbuttoning the front of her robes. "There's a bit if cake in the cupboard," she called over her shoulder.

"I don't want cake," he said, following her. "I want to watch."

"I'm beginning to suspect you wish you could nurse her yourself," Hermione said with a laugh. "Don't you ever get tired of watching?"

"Not yet," he said, sitting down on the bed and pulling her between his legs until she was leaning back on his chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head and wrapped his arms around her to help cradle the baby. Hermione helped their daughter to latch on and they watched in awe as the tiny thing guzzled ferociously.

"How can she eat so much and stay so small?" Hermione asked.

"Because when you're not looking she throws it back up on me," he replied.

Hermione laughed and twisted around to kiss him on the neck.

"I love you, Severus," she said. "You make me very happy."

He bent down and kissed her cheek.

"And I love you. You've made me happier than I could begin to express."

Hermione closed her eyes and listened to the slow steady beat of her husband's heart and smiled.

_*finite*_

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* * *

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And a special round of thank yous to all of my reviewers. To all those that I could not reply personally to, know that your comments and opinions were treasured. To all of my first time reviewers, you made my days brighter, and to my regular cast of characters, know that I adore you all. I do.

This is the bestest hobby I ever took up. Seriously. Much better than collecting navel lint. Much.


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